*« k',"? If' 







^<^ ^iM^ \c/ i^^:-. \J^ :W \c/ -* 



0^ 













' \.vj^-\-v* *^/^£?^\o^^ %-:!^'^^■* ^/^/.^ 










'P' \y ■^ V- 










.^ 






.0^ 




:Hi'^>fr > 









-^ 



c" 



o 



-j<£--': ]:,'^. 



r-n^. 



.HO,, 



-^^ 



v^ 



<^^ 



♦^ 



o > 



^o^ .9'^ 






^ 



>^. 









^°-^*. 



,*°' 






A'^. 






•^•^ 



- V « f. n '^. 










°^ 


>-o/' 


V, 






\;^ 




V c ' 




o. 






;>^ 


*^A*o^ 


< 
















^'^-n^. 



* o « o 






,^- 



^^"-. 






■i' 






^^vP9 



."JV^ 















"o v^ .V' 

<?• * o « o ' 

- /-^-^ 



,v 






.•Jv' 




Ready fou thk Fuont. 



THE RECOLLECTIONS 



OF 



A DRUMMER-BOY 



BY 



HARRY M. KIEFFER 

LATE OF THE ONE HUNDKEI) AND FIFTIETH REfUMENT 
PENN<5YLVANIA VOLUNTEERS 



Sixth Edition, Revised and Enlakged 



^HustK^Ud 



" Forsan et hcec olim meminisse juvabit " 

ViROIL, ^NEII) 1. 203 






cm 







BOSTON 
TICKNOR AND COMPANY 

. 21X ^Trrmont Street 
1889 



\ 



Copyright, 1881, by Hakky M. Kieffer; 1883, by The Century Co. 

AND 1888, by TICKNOR & CO. 



All Rights Reserved. 






ELECTROTYPEP BY 

C. J. Peters & Son, Boston, U. S. A. 



THE OFFICERS AND MEX 

OF 

THE OXE HUXDRED AXD FIFTIETH REGIMENT 
PENNSYLVANIA VOLUNTEERS, 

'3nlJ to tf}rir Cfjillircrt, 

THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIOXATELY IXSCRIBED. 



PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION. 



The generous words of praise awarded by the press of the country 
to these Recollections, and the widespread favor with which they have 
been received throughout tlie hind — by none more so than by the 
veteransthemselves, and their chiklren— together with the fact that 
the book has been long out of print, though much inquired for, war- 
rants the publication of a new and enlarged edition in a different and, 
it is believed, a greatly improved dress. With the exception of the 
addition of some recently remembered incidents, whicli it is thought 
the reader will enjoy, the narrative remains unchanged. It is hoped 
that it may continue to give as great pleasure to many readers to 
peruse tliese pages as it was to the author to write them. 

E ASTON, Pa., August 1, 1SS8. 



PREFACE. 



As some apology would seem to be necessary for the effort, here- 
with made, to add yet one more volume to the already overcrowded 
shelf containing the Nation's literature of the great Civil War, it may 
be well to say a few words in explanation of the following pages. 

Several years ago the writer prepared a brief series of papers for 
the columns of St. Nicholas., under the title of " liecollections of a' 
Drummer-Boy." It was thought that these sketches of army life, as 
seen by a boy, would prove enjoyable and profitable to children in 
general, and especially to the children of the men who participated in 
the great Civil War, on one side or the other ; while the belief was 
entertained that they might at the same time serve to revive in the 
minds of the veterans themselves long-forgotten or but imperfectly 
remembered scenes and experiences in camp and field. In the out- 
start it was not the author's design to write a connected story, but 
rather simply to prepare a few brief and hasty sketches of army life, 
drawn from his own personal experience and suitable for magazine 
purposes. But these, though prepared in such intervals as could with 
difficulty be spared from the exacting duties of a bus}^ professional life, 
having been so kindly received by the editors of St. liicJiolas, as well 
as by the very large circle of readers of that excellent magazine, 
and the writer having been urgently pressed on all sides for more of 
the same kind, it was thought well to revise and enlarge the " Recol- 
lections of a Drummer-Boy," and to present them to the publii) in 
permanent book form. In the shape of a more or less connected story 
of army life, covering the whole period of a soldier's experience from 

11 



12 P KEF ACE. 

enlistment to muster-out, and carried forward through all the stirring 
scenes of camp and field, it was believed that these " Recollections," 
in the revised form, would commend themselves not only to the 
children of the soldiers of the late war, but to the surviving soldiers 
themselves ; while at the same time they would possess a reasonable 
interest for the general reader as well. 

From first to last it has been the author's design, v/hile endeav- 
oring faithfully to reflect the spirit of the army to which he belonged, 
to avoid all needless references of a sectional nature, and to present 
to the public a story of army life which shoukl breathe in every page 
of it the noble sentiment of "malice towards none, and charity 
for all." 

In all essential regards, the following pages are what they profess 
to be, — the author's personal recollections of three years of army 
life in active service in the field. In a few instances, it is true, certain 
incidents have been introduced which did not properly fall within the 
range of the writer's personal experience ; but these have been 
admitted merely as by the way, or for the sake of being true to the 
spirit rather than to the letter. Facts and dates have been given as 
accurately as the author's memory, aided by a carefully kept army 
journal, would permit; while the names of officers and men men- 
tioned in the narrative are given as they appear in the published 
muster-rolls, with the exception of several instances, easily recognized 
by the intelligent reader, in which, for evident reasons, it seemed best 
to conceal the actors beneath fictitious names. While speaking of the 
matter of names, an affectionate esteem for a faithful boj-hood's friend 
and subsequent army messmate constrains the writer to mention that, 
as " Andy " was the name by which Fisher Gutelius, " high private in 
the rear rank," was commonly known while wearing the blue, it has 
been deemed well to allow him to appear in the narrative under cover 
of this, his army sobriquet. 



PREFACE. 13 

As no full and complete history of the One Hundred and Fiftieth 
Kegimeut Pennsylvania Volunteers has ever yet been written, it is 
hoped that these Recollections of one of its humblest members may 
serve the purpose of recalling to the minds of surviving comrades the 
stirrino- scenes through which they passed, as well as of keeping alive 
in eomino- time the name and memory of an organization which 
deserved well of its country during the ever-memorable days of now 
more than twenty years ago. 

The author herewith acknowledges his indebtedness for certain 
facts to a brief sketch of the One Hundred and Fiftieth Regiment 
Pennsylvania Volunteers by Thomas Chamberlain, late Major of the 
same ; and to John C. Kensill, late sergeant of Company F., for valu- 
able information : and to the editors of *S'^ Nicholas for their uniform 
courtesy and encouragement. 

• It cannot fail to interest the reader to know that the illustrations 
signed A. C. R. were drawn by Allen C. Redwood, who served in the 
Confederate army, and witnessed, albeit from the other side of the 
fence, many of the scenes which his graphic pencil has so admirably 
depicted. 

With these few words of apology and explanation, the author 

herewith places The Recollections of a Drummer-Boy in the 

hands of a patient and ever-indulgent public. 

H. M. K. 

jSToRRiSTOAVN, Pa., March, 1, 1883. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGK 

CHAPTER ^^ 

1. Off to the War 

II. First Days in Camp '^'^ 

III. On to AVashington "^^ 

IV. Our First Winter Quarters 51 

v. A Grand Review . . , ; " * ^^ 

VI. On Picket along the Rappahannock 64 

Vn. A Mud March and a Sham Battle 73 

VIII. How WE GOT A Shelling ... - ^^ 

IX. In the Woods at Chancellorsville 



X. The First Day at Gettysburg 1^1 



92 

01 

121 



XI. After the Battle 

XII. Through "Maryland, my INIaryland" 1-^ 

XIII. Pains and Penalties ^'^•^ 

XIV. A Tale of a Squirrel and Three Blind :Mice l^o 

XV. "The Pride of the Regiment" l^'^ 

XVI. Around the Camp-Fire 1^- 

XVII. Our First Day in "the Wilderness" I'l 

XVIII. A Bivouac for the Night ^ 1^1 

XIX. "Went down to Jericho and fell among Thieves" .... 189 

XX. In the Front at Petersburg l^'' 

XXI. Fun and Frolic . 211 

XXII. Chiefly Culinary --^ 

XXIII. Hatcher's Run 227 

XXIV. Killed, Wounded, or Missing? ............ 232 

XXV. A Winter Raid to North Carolina .......... 23/ 

XXVI. "Johnny comes marching Home!" 243 

15 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Ready for the Fuont Fro7iti^piece 

The Company stauts fou the Wak 27 

Camp Scenes ^^ 

Tailpiece 43 

In Winteu Quakteus • 53 

AVaiting to de Heviewei) by the President 59 

Tailpiece C3 

In a Dangerous Part of his Beat C8 

The Quartermaster's Triumph 79 

Tailpiece 83 

General Doubleday Dismounts and Sights the Cun 87 

Tailpiece ^1 

A Surgeon Writing upon the Pommel of his saddle an Order for 

an Ambulance 95 

On the March to and From Gettysburg .• . 103 

A Skirmish AFTEir a Hard Day's March 109 

At Close Quarters the First Day at Gettysburg 115 

Tailpiece 121^ 

i've got him bovs 130 

Drumming Sneak Thieves out of Camp 13G 

Tailpiece 144 

"Old Abe" . 159 

Tailpiece 1(j1 

Christmas Eve Around the Camp Fire 165 

Sick ._ 167 

Cal Wirt's Map of the War 1138 

A Scene in the Field Hospital ...... ... ..... . 175 

Army Badges « . 182 

'•'General Grant can't have any of this Water" ........ 185 

17 



18 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIOyS. 

"Went Down to Jericho" 191 

Andy had Bought the Sorkel for Ten Dollars 195 

"Better get off'n dat dar Mule" 199 

Finding a Wounded Picket in a Rifle-pit 201 

Scene Among the Rifle-pits before Petersburg 205 

The Magazine avhe«e the Poavder and Shells were Stored .... 209 

"Fall in for Hard-Tack!" 223 

The Conflict at Daybreak in the Woods at Hatcher's Run .... 229 

Wrecking the Railway 239 

The Charge on the Cakes 245 

The Welcome Home 248 



RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 



THE 

RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 



CHAPTER I. 

OFF TO THE "WAR. 



"It is no use, Andy, I cannot study any more. I have struggled 
against this feeling, and have again and again resolved to shut myself 
up to my books and stop thinking about the war; but when news 
comes of one great battle after another, and I look around in the 
schoolroom and see the many vacant seats once occupied by the older 
boys, and think of where they are, and what they may be doing away 
down in Dixie, I fall to day-dreaming and wool-gathering over my 
books, and it is just no use. I cannot study any more. I might as 
well leave school, and go home and get at something else." 

But my companion was apparently too deeply interested in unrav- 
elling the intricacies of a sentence in Caesar to pay much attention 
to what I had been saying. For Andy was a studious boy, and the 
sentence with which he had been wrestling when the bell rang for 
recess could not at once be given up. He had therefore carried his book 
with him on our walk as we strolled leisurely up the green lane which 
led past the " Old Academy," and, with his copy of Csesar spread out 
before him, lay stretched out at full length on the greensward, in the 
shade of a large cherry-tree, whose fruit was already turning red 
under the warm spring sun. It was a beautiful, dreamy day in May, 
early in the summer of 1862, tiie second year of the great Civil Wear. 

21 



22 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

The air was laden with the s.weet scent of the young clover, and vocal 
with the song of the robin and the bluebird. The sky was cloudless 
overhead, and the soft spring breeze blew balmily up from the south. 
Behind us were the hills, covered with orchards, and beneath us lay 

the quiet little village of M , with its one thousand inhabitants, 

and beyond it the valley, renowned far and wide for its beauty, while 
in the farther background, deep blue mountains rose towering toward 

the sky. 

My companion, apparently quite indifferent to the languid influ- 
ence of the season, resolutely persevered at his task until he had 
triumphantly mastered it. Then, closing the book and clasping his 
hands behind his head as he rolled around on his back, he looked at 
me with a smile and said, — 

" Oh ! you only have the spring fever, Harry." 

" No, I haven't, Andy ; it was the same last winter. And don't 
you remember how excited you were when tlie news came about Fort 
Sumter last spring? You would liave enlisted right off, had your 
father consented. Or, may be, you had the spring fever then ? " 

"I'm all over that now, and for good and all. I want to study, and 
as I cannot study and keep on thinking of the war all the time, why I 
just stop thinking about the war as well as I can." 

"Well," said I, "I cannot. Look at our school: why, there are 
scarcely any large boys left in it any more, only little fellows and the 
girls. For my part, I ought to get at something else." 

"What would you get at? You would feel the same anywhere 
else. There is Ike Zellers, the blacksmith, for example. When I 
came past his shop this morning, on my way to school, instead of 
being busy with hammer and tongs, as he should have been, there he 
was, sitting on an old harrow outside his shop door whittling a stick, 
while Elias Foust was reading an account of the last battle from 
some newspaper. I shouldn't wonder if Elias and Ike both would be 



OFF TO THE WAR. 23 

enlisting some one of these days. It is the same everywhere. All 
people feel the excitement of the war — storekeepers, tradesmen, 
farmers, and even the women ; and we schoolboys are no exception. 

"Would you enlist, Andy, if your father would consent? You 
are old enough." 

" I don't think I should, Harry. I want to stick to study. But 
there is no telling what a person may do when he is once taken down 
with this war fever. But you are too young to enlist ; they wouldn't 
take you. And you had therefore better make up your mind to stick 
to school, and help me at my Caesar. If you want war, there's enough 
of it in old Julius here to satisfy the most bloodthirsty, I should 
think." 

" You will find more about war, and of a more romantic kind too, 
in Virgil and Homer, when you get on so far in your studies, Andy. 
But the warS of Ctesar and the siege of Troy, what are they when 
compared with the great war now being waged in our own time 
and country ? The nodding plumes of Hector, and the shining armor 
of all old Homer's heroes, do not seem to me half so interesting or 
magnificent as the brave uniforms in which some of our older school- 
fellows occasionally come home on furlough." 

"Up there on the hillside," said Andy, suddenly rising from his 
reclining posture, " is cousin Joe Gutelius, hoeing corn in his father's 
lot. Let's go up and see what he has to say about the war." 

We found Joe busy, and hard at work with the young corn. He 
was a fine young fellow, perhaps twenty-two or twenty-three j-ears of 
age, tall, well built, of a fine, manly bearing, and looked a likely 
subject for a recruiting officer, as, in response to our loud " Hello, 
Joe ! " he left his unfinished row, and came down to the fence ff)r 
a talk. 

"Rather a warm day for work in a coi-nfield, isn't it Joe?" 

"Well, yes," said Joe, as he tlu'ew down his hoe and mounted the 



24 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

top rail, wiping away the perspiration, wliich stood in great beads on 
his brow. "But I believe I'd rather hoe corn than go to school 
such beautiful weather. Nearly kill me to be penned up in the old 
academy such a day as this." 

" That's what's the matter with Harry, here," said Andy. "He's 
got the spring fever, I tell him ; but he thinks he's got the war fever. 
I told him we'd come up here and see what you had to say about it." 

"About what? About the spring fever, or about the war?" 

" Why, about the Avar, of course, Joe," said Andy, with a smile. 

" Well, boys, I know what the war fever is like. I had a touch of 
it last winter, when the Fifty -first boys went off; and I came very 
near going along with them, too. But my brothers, Charlie and Sam, 
both wanted to go, and I declared that if they went I'd go too ; and 
mother took it so much to heart that we all had to give it up. 
Charlie and Sam came near joining a cavalry company some months 
ago, and I shouldn't wonder much if they did get off one of these 
days ; but, as for myself, I guess I'll have to stay at home and take 
care of the old folks." 

"And I tell Harry, here," said Andy, "that he had better stick to 
books, and help me with my Caesar." 

" Or he might get a hoe, and come and help me with my corn," 
said Joe, with a smile ; " that would take both the spring fever 
and the war fever out of him in a jiffy. But there is your bell, calling 
you to your books. Poor fellows, how I pity you ! " 

That my companion would persevere in his purpose of " sticking 
to books," as he called it, I had no doubt. For, besides being naturally 
possessed of a resolute will, he was several years my senior, and 
therefore presumably less liable to be carried away by the prevailing 
restlessness of the times. But for myself, study continued to grow 
more and more irksome as the summer drew on apace, so that when, 
before tlie close of the term, a former schoolmate began to "raise 



OFF TO THE WAR. 25 

a company," as it was called, for the nine months' service, unable 
any longer to endure my restless longing for a change, I sat down at 
my desk one day in the schoolroom, and wrote the following letter 
liome, — 

'^ Deae Papa, — I write to ask whether I ma}^ have your permis- 
sion to enlist. I find the school is fast breaking up ; most of the boys 
are gone. I can't study any more. Wont you let me go ? " 

Poor father ! In the anguish of his heart it must have been 
that he sat down and wrote : " You may go I " Without the loss of a 
moment I was off to the recruiting-office, showed my father's letter, 
and asked to be sworn in. But alas ! I was only sixteen, and lacked 
two years of being old enough, and the}' would not take me unless I 
could swear I was eighteen, which, of course, I could not and 
would not do. 

So, then, back again to the school when the fall term opened, early 
in August, 1862, there to dream over Horace and Homer, and that 
one poor little old siege of Troy, for a few days more, while Andy at 
my side toiled manfully at his Csesar. The term had scarcely well 
opened, when, unfortunately for my peace of mind, a gentleman who 
had been my school-teacher some years previously, began to raise 
a company for the war, and the village at once went into another 
whirl of excitement, which carried me utterly away ; for they said I 
could enlist as a drummer-boy, no matter how young I might be, 
provided I had my father's consent. But this, most unfortunately, 
had been meanwhile revoked. For, to say nothing of certain remon- 
strances on the part of my father during the vacation, there had 
recently come a letter, saying, — 

" My deak Boy, — If you have not yet enlisted, do not do so ; 
for I think you are quite too young and delicate, and I gave my 
permission perhaps too hastily, and without due consideration." 



26 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

But alas, dear father, it was too late then, for I had set my very- 
heart on going. The company was nearly full, and would leave in a 
few days, and everybody in the village knew that Harry was going for 
a drummer-boy. Besides, the very evening on which the above letter 
reached me we had a grand procession, which marched all through the 
village street, from end to end, and this was followed by an immense 
mass meeting, and our future captain, Henry W. Crotzer, made a 
stirring speech, and the band played, and the people cheered and 
cheered again, as man after man stepped up and put his name down on 
the list. Albert Foster and Joe Ruhl and Sam Ruhl signed their 
names, and then Jimmy Lucas and Elias Foust and Ike Zellers and 
several others followed ; and when Charlie Gutelius and his brother 
Sam stepped up, with Joe at their heels, declaring that " if they went 
he'd go too," the meeting fairly went wild with excitement, and the 
people cheered and cheered again, and the band played " Hail Colum- 
bia ! " and the "Star Spangled Banner," and "Away Down South, in 
Dixie," and — in short, what in the world was a poor boy to do ? 

There was an immense crowd of people at the depot that mid- 
summer morning, more than twenty years ago, when our company 
started off to the war. It seemed as if the whole county had sus- 
pended work and voted itself a holiday, for a continuous stream 

of people, old and young, poured out of the little village of L , 

and made its way through the bridge across the river, and over 
the dusty road beyond, to the station where we were to take the 
train. 

The thirteen of us who had come down from the village of M to 

join the larger body of the company at L , had enjoyed something 

of a triumphal progress on the way. We had a brass band to start 
with, besides no inconsiderable escort of vehicles and mounted horse- 
men, the number of which was steadily swelled to quite a procession as 



OFF TO THE WAR. 



27 



we advanced. The band played, and the flags waved, and the boys 
cheered, and the people at work in the fields cheered back, and the 
young farmers rode down the lanes on their horses, or brought their 




s3^ 






THE CUMI'AXY STARTS FUR THE WAR. 



sweethearts in their carriages, and fell in line with the dusty proces- 
sion. Even the old gatekeeper, who could not leave his post, became 
much excited as we passed, gave " three cheers for the Union forever," 
and stood waving his hat after us till we were hid from sight behind 
the hills. 



28 BECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

Reaching L about nine in the morning, we found the village 

all ablaze with bunting, and so wrought up with the excitement that 
all thought of work had evidently been given up for that day. As 
we formed in line, and marched down the main street toward the 
river, the sidewalks were everywhere crowded with people, — with boys 
who wore red-white-and-blue neckties, and boys who wore fatigue-caps ; 
with girls who carried flags, and girls who carried flowers ; with women 
who waved their kerchiefs, and old men who waved their walking- 
sticks ; while here and there, as we passed along, at windows and 
doorways, were faces red with long weeping, for Johnny was off to the 
war, and maybe mother and sisters and sweetheart would never, never 
see him again. 

Drawn up in line before the station, we awaited the train. There 
was scarcely a man, woman or child in that great crowd around us but 
had to press up for a last shake of the hand, a last good by, and a last 
" God bless you, boys ! " And so, amid cheering, and hand-shaking, 
and flag-waving, and band-playing, the train at last came thundering in, 
and we were off, with the " Star-Spangled Banner " sounding fainter, 
and farther away, until it was drowned and lost to the ear in the noise 
of the swiftly rushing train. 

For myself, however, the last good by had not yet been said, for I 
had been away from home at school, and was to leave the train at a 
way station some miles down the road, and walk out to my home in 
the country, and say good by to the folks at home ; and that was the 
hardest part of it all, for good by then might be good by forever. 

If anybody at home had been looking out of door or window that 
hot August afternoon, more than twenty years ago, he would have 
seen, coming down the dusty road, a slender lad, with a bundle slung 
over his shoulder, and — but nobody ivaa looking down the road, 
nobody was in sight. Even Rollo, the dog, my old playfellow, was 
asleep somewhere in the shade, and all was sultry, hot, and still. 



OFF TO THE WAR. 29 

Leaping lightly over the fence by tlie S2)ring at the foot of the hill, I 
took a cool draught of water, and looked up at the great red farm- 
house above with a throbbing heart, for that was home, and many a 
sad good by had there to be said, and said again, before I could get off 
to the war ! 

Long years have passed since then, but never have I forgotten how 
pale the faces of mother and sisters became when, entering the room 
where they were at work, and throwing off my bundle, in reply to 
their question, " Why, Harry ! where did you come from ? " I 
answered, " I come from school, and Fm off for the war ! " You may 
well believe there was an exciting time of it in the dining-room of that 
old red farmhouse then. In the midst of that excitement, father came 
in from the field and greeted me with, " Why, my boy, where did you 
come from ? " to which there was but the one answer, " Come from 
school, and off for the war ! " 

" Nonsense ! I can't let you go ! I thought you had given up all 
idea of that. What would they do with a mere boy like you ? Why, 
you'd be only a bill of expense to the Government. Dreadful thing to 
make me all this trouble ! " 

But I began to reason full stoutly with poor father. 1 reminded 
him, first of all, that I would not go without his consent ; that in two 
years, and perhaps in less, I might be drafted and sent amongst men 
iinknown to me, while here was a company commanded by my own 
school-teacher, and composed of acquaintances who would look after 
me ; that I was unfit for study or work while this fever was on me, 
and so on ; till I saw his resolution begin to give way, as he lit his 
pipe and walked down to the spring to think the matter over. 

"If Harry is to go, father," mother says, "hadn't I better run up 
to the store and get some woolens, and we'll make the- boy an outfit of 
shirts to-night, yet?" 

" Well — yes ; I guess you had better do so." 



30 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

But when lie sees mother stepping past the gate on her way, he 
halts her with, — 

" Stop ! That boy can't go ! I cant give him up ! " 

And shortly after, he tells her that she " had better be after getting 
that woollen stuff for shirts ; " and again he stops her at the gate 
with, — 

" Dreadful boy ! Why ivill he make me all this trouble ? I can 
not let my boy go ! " 

But at last, and somehow, mother gets off. The sewing-machine is 
going most of the night, and my thoughts are as busy as it is, until 
far into the morning, with all that is before me that I have never seen, 
and all that is behind me that I may never see again. 

Let me pass over the trying good by the next morning, for Joe is 
ready with the carriage to take father and me to the station, and we 
are soon on the cars, steaming away toward the great camp, whither 
the company already has gone. 

" See, Harry, there is your camp ! " And looking out of the car- 
window, across the river, I catch, through the tall tree tops, as we 
rush along, glimpses of my tirst camp, — acres and acres of canvas, 
stretching away into the dim and dusty distance, occupied, as I shall 
soon find, by some ten or twenty thousand soldiers, coming and going 
continually, marching and countermarching, until they have ground 
the soil into the driest and deepest dust I ever saw. 

I shall never forget my first impressions of camp life as father and 
I passed the sentry at the gate. They were anything but pleasant ; 
and I could not but agree with the remark of my father, that, '' the 
life of a soldier must be a hard life indeed." For as we entered that 
great camp, I looked into an A tent, the front flap of which was 
thrown back, and saw enough to make me sick of the housekeeping of 
a soldier. There was nothing in that tent but dirt and disorder, pans 
and kettles, tin cups and cracker-boxes, forks and bayonet-scabbards, 



OFF TO THF WAB. ' 31 

greasy pork and broken hard-tack in utter confusion, and over all and 
everywhere that insufferable dust. Afterward, when we got into the 
field, our camps in summer-time were models of cleanliness, and in 
winter models of comfort, as far, at least, as axe and broom could 
make them so ; but this, the first camp I ever saw, was so abominable, 
that I have often wondered it did not frighten the fever out of me. 

But once among the men of the company, all this was soon forgot- 
ten. We had supper, — hard-tack and soft bread, boiled pork, and 
strong roffe(! (in tin cups), — fare that father thought "one could live 
on right well, I guess ; " and then the boys came around and begged 
fatlier to let me go ; " they would take care of Harry ; never you fear 
for that;" and so helped on my cause that that night, about eleven 
o'clock, when we Avere in the railroad station together, on the way 
home, father said, — 

" Now, Harry, my boy, you are not enlisted yet. I am going home 
on this train ; you can go home with me now, or go with the boys- 
Which will you do ! " 

To which the answer came quickly enough, — too quickly and too 
eagerly, I have often since thought, for a father's heart to bear it 
well, — 

" Papa, ni go with the boys ! " 

" Well, then, good-by, my boy ! And may God bless you, and 
bring you safely back to me again ! " 

The whistle blew " Off brakes ! " the car door closed on father, 
and I did not see him again for three long, long years. 

Often and often, as I have thought over these things since, I have 
never been able to come to any other conclusion than this : that it was 
tlie " war fever " that carried me off, and that made poor father let me 
go. For that "war fever" was a terrible malady in those days. 
Once you were taken with it, you had a very fire in the bones until 
your name was down on the enlistment roll. There was Andy, for 



32 BECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

example, my schoolfellow, and afterward my messmate for three ever- 
memorable years. I have had no time to tell you how Andy came to 
be with us ; but with us he surely was, notwithstanding he had so 
stoutly asserted his determination to quit thinking about the war, and 
stick to his books. 

He was on his way to school the very morning the company was 
leaving the village, with no idea of going along ; but seeing this, that, 
and the other acquaintance in line, what did he do but run across the 
street to an undertaker's shop, cram his schooibooks through the 
broken window, take his place in line, and march off with the boys 
without so much as saying good by to the folks at home ! And he did 
not see his Caesar and Greek grammar again for three years. 



CHAPTER II. 

FIRST DAYS IN CAMP. 

OiTR first camp was located on the outskirts of Harrisburg, Penn., 
and was called " Camp Curtin." It was so named in honor of Gov- 
ernor Andrew G. Curtin, the " war governor " of the state of Penn- 
sylvania, who was regarded by the soldiers of his state with a 
patriotic enthusiasm second only to that with which they, in common 
with all the troops of the Northern states, greeted the name of 
Abraham Lincoln. 

Camp Curtin was not, properly, a camp of instruction. It was, 
rather, a mere rendezvous for the different companies which had been 
recruited in various parts of the state. Hither the volunteers came 
by hundreds and thousands, for the purpose of being mustered into 
the service, uniformed and equipped, assigned to regiments, and 
shipped to the front as rapidly as possible. Only they who witnessed 
it can form any idea of the patriotic ardor, amounting often to a wild 
enthusiasm,' with which volunteering went on in those days. Com- 
panies were often formed, and their muster rolls filled, in a week, 
sometimes in a few days. The contagion of enlisting and "• going to 
the war " was in the very atmosphere. You could scarcely accompany 
a friend to a way station on any of the main lines of travel without 
seeing the future wearers of blue coats at the car windows, and on the 
platforms. Very frequently, whole trains were filled with them, speed- 
ing away to the state capital as swift as steam could carry them. 
They poured into Harrisburg, company by company, usually in citi- 
zens' clothes, and marched out of the town a week or so later, regi- 
ment by regiment, all glorious in bright new uniforms and glistening 

33 



34 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

bayonets, transformed in a few days from citizens into soldiers, and 
destined for deeds of high endeavor on many a bloody field. 

Shortly after our arrival in camp, Andy and I went to town to 
Durchase such articles as we supposed a soldier would be likely to 
need, — a o-um blanket, a journal, a combination knife, fork, and 
spoon, and so on to the end of the list. To our credit I have it to 
record that we turned a deaf ear to the solicitations of a certain 
dealer in cutlery, who insisted on selling us each a revolver, and an 
ugly looking bowie-knife in a bright-red morocco sheath. 

" Shentlemens, shust de ting you vill need ven you goes into de 
battle. Ah, see dis knife; how it shines I Look at dis very fine 
revolfer ! " 

But Moses entreated in vain, while his wife stood at the shop door, 
lookino- at some regiment marching down the street to the depot, 
weeping as if her heart would break, and wiping her eyes with the 
corner of her apron from time to time. 

" Ah, de poor boys ! " said she. " Dere dey go, again, off to de 
great war, away from deir homes, and deir mutters, deir wives, and 
deir sweethearts, all to be kilt in de battle ! Dey will nefer any more 
cooni back. Oh, it is so wicked ! " 

But the drums rattled on, and the crowd on the sidewalk gazed 
and cheered, and Moses, behind his counter, smiled pleasantly as he 
cried up his wares, and went on selling bowie-knives and revolvers to 
kill men with, while his wife went on weeping and lamenting because 
men would be killed in the wicked war, and " nefer any more coom 
back." The firm of Moses and wife struck us as a very strange com- 
bination of business and sentiment. I do not know how many 
knives and pistols Moses sold, nor how many tears his good wife shed, 
but if she wept whenever a regiment marched down the street to the 
depot, her eyes must have been turned into a river of tears ; for the 
tap of the drum and the tramp of the men resounded along the streets 



FIRST DAYS IN CAMP. 35 

of the capital by day and by night, until people grew so used to it that 
tliey scarcely noticed it any more. 

The tide of volunteering was at the full during those early fall 
days of 1862. But the day came at length when the tide began to 
turn. Various expedients were then resorted to for the purpose of 
stimulating the flagging zeal of Pennsylvania's sons. At first, the 
tempting bait of large bounties was presented — county bounties, city 
bounties, state and United States bounties — some men towards the 
close of the war receiving as much as one thousand dollars, and never 
smelling powder at that. At last, drafting was of necessity resorted 
to, and along with drafting came all the miseries of " hiring substi- 
tutes," and so making merchandise of a service of which it is the 
chief glory that it shall be free. 

But in the fall of '62, there had been no drafting yet, and large 
bounties were unknown — and unsought. Most of us were taken 
quite by surprise when, a few days after our arrival in camp, we were 
told that the County Commissioners had come down for the purpose 
of paying us each the magnificent sum of fifty dollars. At the same 
time, also, we learned that the United States Government would pay 
us each one hundred dollars additional, of which, however, only 
twenty-five were placed in our hands at once. The remaining seventy- 
five were to be received only by those who might safely pass through 
all the unknown dangers which awaited us, and live to be mustered 
out with the regiment three years later. 

Well, it was no matter then. What cared we for bounty ? It 
seemed a questionable procedure, at all events, this offering of money 
as a reward for an act which, to be a worthy act at all, asks not and 
needs not the guerdon of gold. We were all so anxious to enter the 
service, that, instead of looking for any artificial helps in that direc- 
tion, our only concern was lest we might be rejected by the examining 
surgeon and not be admitted to the ranks. 



36 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

For soon after our arrival, and before we were mustered into the 
service, every man was thoroughly examined by a medical officer, who 
had us presented to him one by one, in pu7'us 7iaturalihus, in a large 
tent, where he sharply questioned us — " Teeth sound ? Eyes good ? 
Ever had this, that, and the other disease ? " — and ■ pitiable was the 
case of that unfortunate man who, because of bad hearing, or defec- 
tive eyesight, or some other physical blemish, was compelled to don 
his citizen's clothes again and take the next train for home. 

After having been thoroughly examined, we were mustered into 
the service. We were all drawn up in line. Every man raised his 
right hand while an officer recited the oath. It took only a few 
minutes, but when it was over one of the boys exclaimed : " Now, 
fellows, I'd like to see any man go home if he dare. We belong to 
Uncle Sam now." 

Of the one thousand men drawn up in line there that day, some 
lived to come back three years later and be drawn up in line again, 
almost on that identical spot, for the purpose of being mustered out of 
the service. And how many do you think there were ? Not more than 
one hundred and fifty. 

As we now belonged to Uncle Sam, it was to be expected that he 
would next proceed to clothe us. This he punctually did a few days 
after the muster. We had no little merriment when we were called 
out and formed in line and marched up to the quartermaster's depart- 
ment at one side of the camp, to draw our uniforms. There were so 
many men to be uniformed, and so little time in which to do it, that 
the blue clothes were passed out to us almost regardless of the size 
and weight of the prospective wearer. Each man received a pair of 
pantaloons, a coat, cap, overcoat, shoes, blanket, and underwear, of 
which latter the shirt was — well, a revelation to most of us, both as to 
size and shape and material. It was so rough, that no living mortal, 
probably, could wear it, except perhaps one who wished to do penance 




CAMP SCENES. 



FIRST DAYS IN CAMP. 39 

by wearing a hair shirt. Mine was promptly sent home along with my 
citizen's clothes, with the request that it be kept as a sort of heirloom 
in the family, for future generations to wonder at. 

With our clothes on our arms, we marched back to our tents, and 
there proceeded to get on the inside of our new uniforms. The result 
was in most cases astonishing ! For, as might have been expected, 
scarcely one man in ten was fitted. The tall men had invariably 
received the short pantaloons, and presented an appearance, when 
they emerged from their tents, which was equalled only by that of the 
short men who had, of course, received the long pantaloons. One 
man's cap was perched away up on the top of his head, while another's 
rested on his ears. Andy, who was not very tall, waddled forth into 
the company street amid shouts of laughter, having his pantaloons 
turned up some six inches or more from the bottoms, declaring that 
" Uncle Sam must have got the patterns for his boys' pantaloons some- 
where over in France ; for he seems to have cut them after the style 
of the two French towns, Toulon and Toulouse." 

" Hello, fellows ! what do you think of this ? Now just look here, 
will you ! " exclaimed Pointer Donachy, the tallest man in the com- 
pany, as he came oiit of his tent in a pair of pantaloons that were 
little more than knee-breeches for him, and began to parade the street 
with a tent-pole for a musket, " How in the name of the American 
eagle is a man going to fight the battles of his country in such a 
uniform as this ? Seems to me that Uncle Sam must be a little short 
of cloth, boys." 

" Brother Jonathan generally dresses in tights, you know," said 
some one. 

" Ah," said Andy, " Pointer's uniform reminds one of what the 

poet says, — 

" ' Man needs but little here below, 
Nor needs that little Ions.' " 



40 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

" You're rather poor at quoting poetry, Andy," answered Pointer, 
" because I need more than a little here below : I need at least six 
inches.' 

And the shoes! Coarse, broad-soled, low-heeled "gunboats," as we 
afterward learned to call them — what a time there was getting into 
them. Here came one fellow down tlie street with shoes so big that 
they could scarcely be kept on his feet, while over yonder another 
tuo-o-ed and pulled and kicked himself red in the face over a pair that 
would not go on. But by trading off, the large men gradually got the 
large garments and the little men the small, so that in a few days we 
were all pretty well suited. 

I remember hearing about one poor fellow, in another company, a 
great, strapping six-footer, who could not be suited. The largest 
shoe furnished by the government was quite too small. The giant 
tried his best to force his foot in, but in vain. His comrades gathered 
about him, and laughed, and chaffed him unmercifully, whereupon he 
exclaimed, — 

" Why, you don't think they are all hoys that come to the army, do 
you? A man like me needs a man's shoe, not a baby's." 

There was another poor fellow, a very small man, who had received 
a very large pair of shoes, and had not jet been able to effect any 
exchange. One day the sergeant was drilling the company on the 
facings — Right face ! Left face ! Right about face ! — and of course 
watched his men's feet closely, to see that they went through the 
movements promptly. Observing one pair of feet down the line that 
never budged at the command, the sergeant, with drawn sword, 
rushed up to the possessor of them, and, in menacing tones, de- 
manded, — 

"What do you mean by not facing about when I tell you? I'll 
have you put in the guard-house, if you don't mind." 

"Why — I — did, sergeant," said the trembling recruit. 



FIRST DAYS IN CAMF. 41 

" You did not, sir. Didn't I watch your feet ? They never moved 
an inch." 

" Why, you see,*' said the man, " my shoes are so big that they don't 
turn when I do. I go through the motions on the inside of them ! " 

Althougli Camp Curtin was not so much a camp of instruction as 
a camp of equipment, yet once we had received our arms and uniforms, 
we were all eager to be put on drill. Even before we had received 
our uniforms, every evening we had some little drilling, under 
command of Sergeant Cummings, who had been out in the three 
months' service. Clothed in citizens' dress, and armed with such 
sticks and poles as we could pick up, we must have presented a sorry 
appearance on parade. Perhaps the most comical figure in the line was 
that of old Simon Malehorn, who, clothed in a long linen duster, high 
silk hat, blue overalls, and loose slippers, was forever throwing the 
line into confusion by breaking rank, and running back to find his 
slipper, which he had lost in the dust somewhere, and happy was he 
if some one of the boys had not quietly smuggled it into his pocket 
or under his coat, and left poor Simon to finish the parade in his 
stocking-feet. 

Awkward enough in the drill we all were, to be sure. Still, 
we were not quite so stupid as a certain recruit, of whom it was 
related that the drill sergeant had to take him aside as an " awkward 
squad " by himself, and try to teach him how to " mark time." But, 
alas, the poor fellow did not know his right foot from his left, and con- 
sequently could not follow the order, "Left! Left!" until the 
sergeant, driven almost to desperation, lit on the happy expedient of 
tying a wisp of straw on one foot, and a similar wisp of hay on the 
other, and then put the command in a somcAvhat agricultural shape — 
" Hay foot. Straw foot ! Hay foot, Straw foot ! " — whereupon, it is 
said, he did quite well. For if he did not know his left foot from his 
right, he at least could tell hay from straw. 



42 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

One good effect of our having been detained in Camp Curtin for 
several weeks was, that we thus had the opportunity of forming the 
acquaintance of the other nine companies with which we were to be 
joined in one common regimental organization. Some of these came 
from the western, and some from the eastern part of the state; some 
were from the city, some from inland towns and small villages, 
and some from the wild, lumber regions. Every rank, class, and pro- 
fession seemed to be represented. There were clerks, farmers, stu- 
dents, railroad men, iron workers, lumbermen. At first, we were all 
strangers to one another. The different companies, having as yet no 
regimental life to bind them together as a unit, naturally regarded 
each other as foreigners rather than as members of the same organi- 
zation. In consequence of this, there was no little rivalry between 
company and company, together with no end of friendly chaffing and 
lively banter, especially about the time of roll-call in the evening. 
The names of the men who hailed from the west were quite strange, 
and a long-standing source of amusement to the boys from the east, 
and vice versd. When the orderly-sergeant of Company I called the 
roll, the men of Company B would pick out all the outlandish-sound- 
ing surnames, and make all manner of puns on them, only to be paid 
back in their own coin by similar criticisms of their roll. Then there 
were certain forms of expression peculiar to the different sections from 
which the men came, strange idiomatic usages of speech, amounting at 
times to the most pronounced provincialisms, which were a long-con- 
tinued source of merriment. Thus the Philadelphia bo3^s made all 
sport of the boys from the upper tier of counties because they said " I 
be going deown to teown," and invariably used "I make out to" for 
" I am going to," or " I intend to." Some of the men, it was 
observed, called every species of board, no matter how thin, " a 
plank"; and every kind of stone, no matter how small, "a rock." 
How the men laughed one evening, when a high wind came up and 



FIRST BAYS IN CAMP. 



43 



blew the dust, in dense clouds, all over the camp, and one of the 
western boys was heard to declare that he had " a rock in his eye ! " 

Once we got afield, however, there was developed such a feeling of 
regimental unity as soon obliterated whatever natural antagonisms 
may at first have existed between the different companies. Peculiari- 
ties of speech, of course, remained, and a generous and wholesome 
rivalry never disappeared ; but these were a help rather than a 
hindrance. For in military, as in all social life, there can be no true 
unity without some diversity in the component parts, — a principle 
which is fully recognized in our national motto, '•'• U pluribus ufimn.^^ 




CHAPTER III. 

ON TO WASHINGTON". 

After two weeks in that miserable camp at the state capital, we 
were ordered to Washington ; and into Washington, accordingly, one 
sultry September morning, we marched, after a day and a night in the 
cars on the way thither. Quite proud we felt, you may be sure, as we 
tramped up Pennsylvania Avenue, with our new silk flags flying, the 
fifes playing " Dixie," and we ten little drummer-boys pounding away, 
awkwardly enough no doubt, under the lead of a white-haired old man, 
who had beaten Us drum, nearly fifty years before, under Wellington, 
at the battle of Waterloo. We were green, raw troops, as anybody 
could tell at a glance ; for we were fair faced yet, and carried enor- 
mous knapsacks. I remember passing some old troops somewhere 
near Fourteenth Street, and being painfully conscious of the difference 
between them and us. TJieij, I observed, had no knapsacks ; a gum 
blanket, twisted into a roll, and slung carelessly over the shoulder, was 
all the luggage they carried. Dark, swarthy, sinewy men they were, 
with torn shoes and faded uniforms, but with an air of self-possession 
and endurance that came only of experience and hardship. They 
smiled on us as we passed by, — a grim smile, of half pity and lialf 
contempt, — just as we, in our turn, learned to smile on other new 
troops a year or two later. 

By some unpardonable mistake, instead of getting into camp forth- 
with on the outskirts of the city, whither we had been ordered for 
duty at the present, we were marched far out into the country, under 

44 



ON TO WASHINGTON. 45 

a merciless sun, that soon scorched all the endurance out of me. It 
was dusty ; it was hot ; there was no water ; my knapsack weighed a 
ton. So that when, after marching some seven miles, our orders were 
countermanded, and we faced about to return to the city again, 
I thought it impossible I ever should reach it. My feet moved 
mechanically, everything along the road was in a misty whirl ; and 
when, at nightfall, Andy helped me into the barracks near the Capitol, 
from which we had started in the morning, I threw myself, or, rather, 
perhaps, fell on the hard floor, and was soon so soundly asleep that 
Andy could not rouse me for my cup of coffee and ration of bread. 

I have an indistinct recollection of being taken away next morning 
in an ambulance to some hospital, and being put into a clean, white 
cot. After which, for days, all consciousness left me, and all was 
blank before me, save only that, in misty intervals, I saw the kind 
faces and heard the subdued voices of Sisters of Mercy, — voices that 
spoke to me from far away, and hands that reached out to me from the 
other side of an impassable gulf. 

Nursed by their tender care back to returning strength, no sooner 
was I able to stand on my feet once more than, against their solemn 
protest, I asked for my knapsack and drum, and insisted on setting 
out forthwith in quest of my regiment, which I found had meanwliile 
been scattered by companies about the city, my own company and 
another having been assigned to duty at " Soldiers' Home," the Presi- 
dent's summer residence. Although it was but a distance of three 
miles, or thereabomts, and although I started out in search of " Sol- 
diers' Home " at noon, so conflicting were the directions given me by 
the various persons of whom I asked the road, that it was nightfall 
before I reached it. Coming then, at the hour of dusk, to a gateway 
leading apparently into some park or pleasure ground, and bemg 
informed by the porter at the gate that this was "Soldiers' Home," I 
walked about among the trees, in the growing darkness, in search of 



46 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

the camp of Company D, when, just as I had crossed a fence, a chal- 
lenge rang out, — 

" Halt ! Who goes there ? " 

" A friend." 

" Advance, friend, and give the countersign ! " 

" Hello, Elias ! " said I, peering through the bushes, "is that you?" 

"That isn't the countersign, friend. You'd better give the coun- 
tersign, or you're a dead man ! " 

Saying which, Elias sprang back in true Zouave style, with his 
bayonet fixed and ready for a lunge at me. 

" Now, Elias," said I, " you know me just as well as I know 
myself, and you know I haven't the countersign ; and if you're going 
to kill me, why don't stand there crouching like a cat ready to sj^ring 
on a mouse, but up and at it like a man. Don't keep me here in- such 
dreadful suspense." 

" Well, friend without the countersign, I'll call up the corporal, and 
he may kill you, — you're a dead man, any way!" Then he sang 
out, — 

"Corporal of the guard, post number three ! " 

From post to post it rang along the line, now shrill and high, now 
deep and low: " Corporal of the guard, post number three ! " "Cor- 
poral of the guard, post number three ! " 

Upon which up comes the corporal of the guard, on a full trot, 
with his gun at a right-shoulder shift, and saying, — 

" Well, what's up ? " 

" Man trying to break my guard." 

" Where is he ? " 

" Why there, beside that bush." 

" Come along, you there ; you'll be shot for a spy, to-morrow 
morning at nine o'clock." 

" All right, Mr. Corporal, I'm ready." 



Olf TO WASHINGTON. 47 

Now all this was fine sport ; fur Corporal Harter and Elias were 
both of my company, and knew me quite as well as I knew them ; but 
they were bent on having a little fun at my expense, and the corporal 
had marched me off some distance toward headquarters, beyond the 
ravine, when again the call rang along the line, — 

" Corporal of the guard, post number three ! " " Corporal of the 
guard, post number three ! " 

Back the corporal trotted me to Elias. 

" Well, what in the mischief 's up now ?'" 

"Another fellow trying to break my guard, corporal." 

" Well, where is he ? Trot him out ! We'll have a grand exe- 
cution in the morning ! The more the merrier, you know ; and 
' Long live the Union ! ' " 

"■ I'm sorry, corporal, but the fact is I killed this chap myself. I 
caught him trying to climb over the gate there, and he wouldn't stop 
nor give the countersign, and so I up and at him, and ran my bayonet 
through him, and there he is ! " 

And sure enough, there he was, — a big, fat 'possum ! 

" All right, Elias ; you're a brave soldier. I'll speak to the colonel 
about this, and you shall have two stripes on j^our sleeve one of 
these days." 

And so, with the 'possum by the tail and me by the shoulder, he 
marched us off to headquarters, where, the 'possum being thrown 
down on the ground, and I handed over to the tender mercies of the 
captain, it was ordered that, — 

" This young nian should be taken down to Andy's tent, and a 
supper cooked, and a bed made for him there ; and that henceforth and 
hereafter he should beat reveille at daybreak, retreat at sundown, tat- 
too at nine P.M., and lights out a half hour later." 

Nothing, however, was said about the execution of spies in the 
morning, although it was duly ordained that the 'possum, poor thing, 
should be roasted for dinner the next day. 



48 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

Never was there a more pleasant camp than ours, — there on that 
green hillside, across the ravine from the President's summer resi- 
dence. We had light guard duty to do, and that of a kind we 
esteemed a most high honor ; for it was no less than that of being 
special guards for President Lincoln. But the good President, we 
were told, although he loved his soldiers as his own children, did not 
like being guarded. Often did I see him enter his carriage before the 
hour appointed for his morning departure for the White House, and 
drive away in haste, as if to escape from the irksome escort of a dozen 
cavalrymen, whose duty it was to guard his carriage between our camj) 
and the city. Then when the escort rode up to the door, some ten or 
fifteen minutes later, and found that the carriage had already gone, 
wasn't there a clattering of hoofs and a rattling of scabbards as they 
dashed out past the gate, and down the road to overtake the great and 
good President, in whose heart was "charity for all, and malice 
toward none I " 

Boy as I was, I could not but notice how pale and haggard 
the President looked as he entered his carriage in the morninsf, 
or stepped down from it in the evening, after a weary day's work in 
the city ; and no wonder, either, for those September days of 1862 
were the dark, perhaps the darkest, days of the war. Many a mark of 
favor and kindness did we receive from the President's family. Deli- 
cacies, such as we were strangers to then, and would be for a long 
time to come, found their way from Mrs. Lincoln's hand to our camp 
on the green hillside ; while little Tad, the President's son, was a great 
favorite with the boys, fond of the camp, and delighted with the drill. 

One night, when all but the guards on their posts were wrapped 
in greatcoats and sound asleep in the tents, I felt some one shake me 
roughly by the shoulder, and call, — 

" Harry ! Harry ! Get up quick, and beat the long roll ! We're 
going to be attacked. Quick, now ! " 



O.Y TO WASHINGTON. 49 

Groping about in the dark for my drum and sticks, I stepped out 
into the company street and beat the loud alarm, which, waking the 
echoes, brought the boys out of their tents in double-quick time, and 
set the whole camp in an uproar. 

'' What's up, fellows ? " 

" Fall in, Company D ! " shouted the orderly. 

" Fall iii, men," shouted the captain ; " we're going to be attacked 
at once ! " 

Amid the confusion of so sudden a summons at midnight, there 
was some lively scrambling for guns, bayonets, cartridge-boxes, and 
clothes. 

" I say, Bill, you've got my coat on ! " 

" Where's my cap ? " 

" Andy, you scamp, you've got my shoes ! " 

" Fall in, men, quick ; no time to look after shoes now. Take your 
arms and fall in." ^ 

And so, some shoeless, others hatless, and all only half dressed, we 
formed in line and marched out, and down the road at double-quick, 
for a mile, then halted. Pickets were thrown out, an advance of the 
whole line through the woods was made, among tangled bushes and 
briers, and through marshes, until, as the first streaks of early dawn were 
shooting up in the eastern sky, our orders were countermanded, and 
we marched back to camp, to find — that the whole thing was a ruse, 
planned by some of the officers for the purpose of testing our readi- 
ness for work at any hour. After that we slept with our shoes on. 

But poor old Peter Blank, — a man who should never have enlisted, 
for he was as afraid of a gun as Robinson Crusoe's man Friday, — poor 
old Peter was the butt for many a joke the next day. For amid the 
night's confusion, and in the immediate prospect, as he supposed, of a 
deadly encounter with the enemy, so alarmed did he become that he 
at once fell to — praying ! Out of consideration for his years and 



50 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

piety, the captain had permitted him to remain behind, as a guard for 
the camp in our absence, in which capacity he did excellent service, 
excellent service ! But oh, when we sat about our fires the next 
morning, frying our steaks and cooking our coffee, poor Peter was the 
butt of all the fun, and was cruelly described by the wag of the 
company as " the man that had a brave heart, but a most cowardly 
pair of legs ! " 



CHAPTER IV. 

OUR FIRST WINTEK QUARTERS. 

" Well, fellows, I tell you what, I've heard a good deal about the 
baliny breezes and sunny skies of old Virginny, but if this is a speci- 
men of the sort of weather they have in these parts, I, for one, move 
we 'right-about face,' and march home." 

So saying, Phil Hammer got up from under the scrub pine, where 
he had made his bed for the night, shaking the snow from his blanket 
and the cape of his overcoat, while a loud " Ha, ha ! " and an oft 
repeated " What do you think of this, boys ? " rang along the hillside 
on which we had found our first camping-place on " Old Virginia's 

Shore." 

The weather had played us a most deceptive and unpleasant trick. 
We had landed the day before, as my journal says, at " Belle Plains, at 
a place called Piatt's Landing," having been brought down from 
Washington on the steamer " Louisiana " ; had marched some three or 
four miles inland, in the direction of Falmouth, and had halted and 
camped for the night in a thick undergrowth of scrub pine and cedar. 
The day of our landing. was remarkably fair. The skies were so bright, 
the air was so soft and balmy, that we were rejoiced to find what a 
pleasant country it was we were getting into, to be sure ; but the next 
morning, when we drummer-boys woke the men with our loud reveille, 
we were all of Phil's opinion, that the sunny skies and balmy breezes 
of this new land were all a miserable fiction. For as man after man 
opened his eyes at the loud roll of our drums, and the shout of the 
orderly, " Fall in, Company D, for roll-call ! " he found himself cov- 

51 



62 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

ered with four inches of snow, and more coming down. Fortunately, 
the bushes had afforded us some protection. They were so numerous 
and so thick that one could scarcely see twenty rods ahead of him, and 
with their great, overhanging branches had kindly kept the falling 
snow out of our faces, at least while we slept. 

And now began a busy time. We were to build winter quarters — 
a work for which we were but poorly prepared, either by nature or by 
circumstance. Take any body of men out of civilized life, put them 
into the woods, to shift for iihemselves, and they are generally as 
helj)less as children. As for ourselves, we were indeed " Babes in the 
Wood." At least half the regiment knew nothing of woodcraft, 
having never been accustomed to the use of the axe. It was a laugh- 
able sight to see some of the men from the city try to cut down a 
tree ! Besides, we were poorly equipped. Axes were scarce, and 
worth almost their weight in gold. We had no " shelter tents." 
Most of us had " poncho " blankets ; that is to say, a piece of oilcloth 
about five feet by four, with a slit in the middle. But we found our 
ponchos very poor coverings for our cabins ; for the rain just would 
run down through that unfortunate hole in the middle ; and then, too, 
the men needed their oilcloths when they went on picket, for which 
purpose they had been particularly intended. This circumstance gave 
rise to frequent discussion that daj^ : whether to use the poncho as a 
covering for the cabin, and get soaked on picket, or to save the poncho 
for picket, and cov^r the cabin with brushwood and clay? Some 
messes ^ chose the one alternative ; others, the other ; and as the result 
of this preference, togetlier with our ignorance of woodcraft and the 
scarcity of axes, we produced on that hillside the oddest looking 
winter quarters a regiment ever built ! Such an agglomeration of 
cabins was never seen before nor since. I am positive no two cabins 
on all that hillside had the slightest resemblance to each other. 

^ A "mess" is a number of men who eat together. 



OUR FIRST WINTER QUARTERS. 



53 



There, for instance, was a mess over in Company A, composed of 
men from the city. They had one kind of cabin, an immense square 
structure of pine logs, about seven feet high, and covered over the top, 
first witli brushwood, and then coated so heavily with clay that I am 




IN WINTER QUARTERS. 



certain the roof must have been two feet thick at the least. It was 
hardly finished before some wag had nicknamed it " Fortress Monroe." 
Then there was Ike Zellers, of our own company ; he invented 
another style of architecture, or perhaps I should rather say he bor- 
rowed it from the Indians. Ike would have none of your flat-roofed 
concerns ; he would build a wigwam. And so, marking out a huge 



54 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

circle, in the centre of which he erected a pole, and around the pole a 
great number of smaller poles, with one end on the circle and tlie 
other end meeting in the common apex, covering this with brush, and 
the brush with clay, he made for himself a house that was quite warm, 
indeed, but one so fearfully gloomy, that within it was as dark at noon 
as at midnight. Ominous sounds came afterward from the dark 
recesses of ''The Wigwam;" for we were a "skirmish regiment," 
and Ike was our bugler, and the way he tooted all day long, "Deploy 
to the right and left," " Rally by fours," and " Rally by platoons," was 
suggestive of things yet to come. 

Then there was my own tent, or cabin, if indeed I may dignify it 
with the name of either ; for it was a cross between a house and a 
cave. Andy and I thought we would follow the advice of the Irish- 
man, who, in order to raise his roof higher, dug his cellar deeper. We 
resolved to dig down some three feet; "and then, Harry, we'll log her 
up about two feet high, cover her with ponchos, and we'll have the 
finest cabin in the row I " It took us about three days to accomplish 
so stu[)endons an undertaking, during which time we slept at night 
under the bushes as best we could, and when our work was done, we 
moved in with great satisfaction. I remember the door of our house 
was a mystery to all visitors, as, indeed, it was to ourselves until we 
"got the hang of it," as Andy said. It was a hole about two feet 
square, cut through one end of the log part of the cabin, and through 
it you had to crawl as best you ccudd. If you put one leg in first, 
then the head, and then drew in the other leg after you, you were all 
right; but if, as visitors generally did, you put in your head first, you 
were obliged to crawl in on all fours in a most ungraceful and undig- 
nified fashion. 

That was a queer-looking camp all through. If you went up to 
the top of the hill, where the colonel had his quarters, and looked 
down, a strange sight met your eyes. By the time the next winter 



OUR FIRST WINTER QUARTERS. 55 

came, liowever, we had learned how to swing an axe, and we built our- 
selves winter quarters that reflected no little credit on our skill as 
experienced woodsmen. The last cabin we built — it was down in 
front of Petersburg — was a model of comfort and convenience: ten 
feet long by six wide and five high, made of clean pine logs straight as 
an arrow, and covered witli shelter tents ; a chimney at one end, and 
a comfortable bunk at the other ; the inside walls covered with clean 
oat-bao-s, and the gable ends papered with pictures cut from illustrated 
papers ; a mantelpiece, a table, a stool ; and we were putting down a 
floor of pine boards, too, one day toward the close of winter, when the 
surgeon came by, and looking in, said, — 

"■No time to drive nails now, boys ; we have orders to move ! " But 
Andy said, — 

'• Pound aw^a}', Harry, pound away ; we'll see how it looks, anyhow, 
before we go ! " 

I remember an amusing occurrence in connection with the building 
of our Avinter quarters. I had gone over to see some of the boys of 
our company one evening, and found they had " logged up " their tent 
about four feet high, and stretched a poncho over it to keep the snow 
out, and were sitting before a fire they had built in a chimney-place at 
one end. The chimney was built up only as high as the log walls 
reached, the intention being to " catstick and daub "it afterwards to a 
sufficient height. The mess had just got a box from home, and some 
one had hung nearly two yards of sausage on a stick across the top of 
the chimney, "to smoke." And there, on a log rolled up in front of 
Hie fire, I found Jimmy Lucas and Sam Ruhl sitting smoking their 
l)ipes, and glancing up the chimney between whifls every now and 
then, to see that the sausage was safe. Sitting down between them, I 
watched the cheery glow of the fire, and we fell to talking, now about 
the jolly times they were having at home at the holiday season, and 
again about tlie progress of our cabin-building, while every now and 



56 BECOLLECTIOXS OF A DBUMMER BOY. 

then Jimmy would peep up the cliimney on one side, and shortly after 
Sam would squint up on the other. After sitting thus for half an hour 
or so, all of a sudden, Sam, looking up the chimney, jumped off the 
log, clapped his hands together, and shouted, — 

" Jim, it's gone ! " 

Gone it was ; and you might as well look for a needle in a haystack 
as search for two yards of sausage among troops building winter quar- 
ters on short rations ! 

One evening Andy and I were going to have a feast, consisting in 
the main of a huge dish of apple fritters. We bought the flour and 
the apples of the sutler at enormous figures, for we Avere so tired 
of the endless monotony of bacon, beef, and bean soup, that we were 
bent on having a glorious supper, cost or no cost. We had a rather 
small chinuiey-place, in which Andy was superintending the heating of 
a mess-pan half full of lard, while I was busying myself with the flour, 
dough, and apples, when, as ill luck would have it, the lard took fire 
and flamed up the chimney with a roar and a blaze so bright that it 
illuminated the wdiole camp from end to end. Unfortunately, too, for 
us, four of our companies had been recruited in the city, and most of 
Iheiu had been in the volunteer fire department, in which service they 
had gained an experience, useful enough to them on the present occa- 
sion, but most disastrous to us. 

No sooner was the bright blaze seen pouring high out of the chim- 
ney-top of our modest little cabin, than at least a half-dozen fire com- 
panies Avere on the instant organized for the emergency. The 
'* llunuuie," the " Fairmount," the "Good-will," witli their imaginary 
engines and hose-carriages, came dashing down our company street 
with shouts, and yells, and cheers. It was but the work of a moment 
to attach the imaginary hose to imaginary plugs, plant imaginary lad- 
ders, tear down the chimney and demolish the roof, amid a flood of 
sparks, aniL to the intense deli^'ht of the firemen, but to our utter con- 



OUR FIRST WINTER QUARTERS. 5T 

sternation and grief. It took us days to repair the damage, and we 
went to bed with some of our neighbors, after a scant supper of hard- 
tack and coffee. 

How did we spend our time in winter quarters, do you ask ? Well, 
there was always enough to do, you may be sure, and often it was 
work of the very hardest sort. Two days in the week the regiment 
went out on picket, and while there got but little sleep and suffered 
much from exposure. When they were not on picket, all the men not 
needed for camp guard had to drill. It was nothing but drill, drill, 
drill : company drill, re^gimental drill, brigade drill, and once even 
division drill. Our regiment, as I have said, was a skirmish regiment, 
and the skirmish drill is no light work, let me tell you. Many an 
evening the men came in more dead than alive, after skirmishing over 
the country for miles around, all the afternoon. Reveille and roll-call 
at five o'clock in the morning, guard mount at nine, company drill 
from ten to twelve, regimental drill from two to four, dress parade at 
five, tattoo and lights out at nine at night, with continual practice on 
the drum for us drummer-boys, — so our time passed away. 



CHAPTER V. 

A GRAND REVIKW. 

On a certain day near the beginning of April, 1863, we were 
ordered to prepare for a grand review of onr corps. President Lin- 
coln, Mrs. Lincoln, Master Tad Lincoln (who nsed to play among onr 
tents at " Soldiers Home "), and some of the Cabinet officers, were 
coming down to look us over and see what promise we gave for the 
campaign soon to open. 

Those who have never seen a grand review of well-drilled troops in 
the field have never seen one of the finest and most inspiring sights 
the eyes of man can behold. I wish I could impart to my readers 
some faint idea of the thrilling scene which must have presented itself 
to the ej^es of the beholders when, on the morning of the ninth day of 
April, 1863, our gallant First Army Corps, leaving its camps anion o- 
the hills, assembled on a wide, extended plain for the inspection of our 
illustrious visitors. 

As regiment after regiment, and brigade after brigade, came march- 
ing out from the surrounding hills and ravines, with flags gayly flyino-, 
bands and drum corps making such music as was enough to stir the 
blood in the heart of the most indifferent to a quicker pulse, and well- 
drilled troops that marched in the morning sunlight with a step as 
steady as the stroke of machinery, — ah ! it was a sight to be seen but 
once in a century ! And when those twenty thousand men were all at 
last in line, with the artillery in position off to one side of the hill, and 
ready to fire their salute, it seemed well worth the President's while to 
come all the way from Washington to look at them. 

58 



A GRAND REVIEW. 61 

But the President was a long, long time in coming. The sun, 
mounting fast -toward noon, began to be insufferably hot. One hour, 
two hours, three hours were passing away, when, at last, far off 
through a defile between the hills, we caught sight of a gre^t cloud of 
dust. 

" Fall in, men ! " for now here they come, sure enough. Mr. and 
Mrs. Lincoln in a carriage, escorted by a body of cavalry and groups 
of officers, and at the head of the cavalcade Master Tad, big with 
importance, mounted on a pony, and having for his especial escort a 
boy orderly, dressed in a cavalry-man's uniform, and mounted on 
another pony ! And the two little fellows, scarce restraining their 
boyish delight, outride the company, and come on the field in a cloud 
of dust and at a full gallop, — little Tad shouting to the men, at the 
top of his voice : " Make way, men ! Make way, men ! Father's 
a-coming ! Father's a-coming ! " 

Then the artillery breaks forth into a thundering salute, that wakes 
tlie echoes among the hills and sets the air to shivering and quaking 
about your ears, as the cavalcade gallops down the long line, and regi- 
mental standards droop in greeting, and bands and drum-corps, one 
after another, strike up "Hail to the Chief," till they are all playing at 
once in a grand chorus that makes the hills ring as they never rang 
before. 

But all this is only a flourish by way of prelude. The real beauty 
of the review is yet to come, and can be seen only when the cavalcade, 
having galloped down the line in front and up again on the rear, has 
taken its stand out yonder, immediately in front of the middle of the 
line, and the order is given to "pass in review." 

Notice now, how, by one swift and dexterous movement, as the 
officers step out and give the command, that long line is broken into 
platoons of exactly equal length; how, straight as an arrow, each 
platoon is dressed ; how the feet of the men all move together, and 



62 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

their guns, flashing in the sun, have the same inclination. Observe 
^particularly how, when they come to wheel off, there is no he7id in the 
line, but they wheel as if the whole platoon were a ramrod made to 
revolve about its one end through a quarter-circle ; and now that they 
are marching thus down the held and past the President, what a gran- 
deur there is in the steady stej) and onward sweep of that column of 
twenty thousand boys in blue ! 

But once we have passed the President and gained the other end of 
the field, it is not nearly so fine. For we must needs finish the review 
in a double quick, just by way of showing, I suppose, what we could 
do if we were wanted in a hurry, — as indeed we shall be, not more 
than sixty days hence ! Away we go, then, on a dead run off the 
field, in a cloud of dust and amid a clatter of bayonet scabbards, till, 
hid behind the hills, we come to a more sober pace, and march into 
camp, just as tired as tired can be. 

How strangely tilings turn out, and what singular coincidences 
there are. The boy orderly whom I have here mentioned as accom- 
panying little Tad Lincoln at this grand review, I certainly had no 
reason to expect ever to see after the war was over, or even to learn 
his name. But one day, a few years ago, while in camp at Gettysburg 
with the National Guard of Pennsylvania, in the capacity of chaplain 
of the Sixth Regiment, a gentleman by the name of William W. 
Sweisfort came over to our camp with a company of visitors from 
Philadelphia, and said he wanted to meet me, because I had done him 
the honor to mention him in my book. Said he, " In your ' Recollec- 
tions ' you speak of a boy orderly accompanying little Tad Lincoln at 
the review of the First Corps near Fredericksburg. Well, sir, I am 
that boy orderly. I was very young then, and quite small for my 
years, and, as you see, I have not grown very tall to this day, being 
short of stature, like Zaccheus of old. I was detailed to take charge 
of 'little Tad' during that visit of President Lincoln, and was respon- 



A GRAND REVIEW. 



63 



sible to Iieadquarters for his safety. And I tell you I had a time of 
it. That boy was a lively boy. He ke[)t me moving. He rode his 
horse half dead, up and down, hither and yon, into every camp, put- 
ting his nose into everything, investigated every artillery park ; 
inspected every provision train, hardly slept at niglit. I believe I was 
just a little glad when his visit was at an end, and I turned him over 
to his father in good order." 




CHAPTER VI. 

ON PICKET ALONG THE RAPPAHANNOCK. 

" Harry, wouldn't you like to go out on picket with us to-mor- 
row ? Tbe weather is pleasant, and I'd like to have you for company, 
for time hangs rather heavy on a fellow's hands out there ; and, 
besides, I want you to help me with my Latin." 

Andy was a studious fellow, and carried on his studies with greater 
or less regularity during our whole time of service. Of course we had 
no books, except a pocket copy of " Caesar " ; but to make up for the 
deficiency, particularly of a grammar, I had written out the declen- 
sions of the nouns and the conjugations of the verbs on odd scraps of 
paper, which Andy had gathered up and carried in a roll in his breast 
pocket, and many were the lessons we had together under the canvas 
or beneath the sighing branches of the pines. 

" Well, old boy, I'd like to go along first-rate ; but we must get 
permission of the adjutant first." 

Having secured the adjutant's consent, and provided myself with a 
gun and accoutrements, the next morning, at four o'clock, I set out, in 
company with a body of some several hundred men of the regiment. 
We were to be absent from camp for two days, at the expiration of 
which time we were to be relieved by the next detail. 

It was pleasant April weather, for the season was well advanced. 
Our route lay straight over the hills and through the ravines, for there 
were no roads, fences, nor fields. But few houses were to be seen, and 
from these the inhabitants had, of course, long since disappeared. At 
one of these few remaining houses, situated some three hundred yards 
from the river's edge, our advance picket reserve was established, the 

64 



Oy PICKET ALONG THE RAPPAHANNOCK. 65 

captain in command making his headquarters in the once beautiful 
grounds of the mansion, long since deserted and left empty by its 
former occupants. The place had a very distressing air of neglect. 
The beautiful lawn in front, where merry children had no doubt 
played and romped in years gone by, was overgrown with weeds. The 
large and commodious porch, where in other days the family gathered 
in the evening time and talked and sang, while the river flowed peace- 
fully by, was now abandoned to the spiders and their webs. The 
whole house was pitifully forlorn looking, as if wondering why the 
family did not come back to fill its spacious halls with life and mirth. 
Even the colored people had left their quarters. There was not a soul 
anywhere about. 

We were not permitted either to enter the house or to do any 
damage to the property. Pitching our shelter-tents under the out- 
spreading branches of the great elms on the lawn in front of the house, 
and building our fires back of a hill in the rear to cook our breakfast, 
we awaited our turn to stand guard on the picket-line, which ran close 
along the river's edge. 

It may be interesting to my young readers to know more particu- 
larly liow this matter of standing picket is arranged and conducted. 
When a body of men numbering, let us say, for the sake of example, 
two hundred in all, go out on picket, the detail is usually divided into 
two equal parts, consisting in the supposed case of one hundred each. 
One of these companies of a hundred goes into a sort of camp about 
a half mile from the picket-line, — usually in a woods or near by a 
spring, if one can be found, or in some pleasant ravine among the hills, 
— and the men have nothing: to do but make themselves comfortable 
for the first twenty-four hours. They may sleep as much as they like, 
or play at such games as they please, only they must not go away any 
considerable distance from the post, because they may be very sud- 
denly wanted, in case of an attack on the advance picket-line. 



66 RECOLLECTIONS OE A DRUMMER BOY. 

The other band of one hundred takes position only a short distance 
to the rear of the line wliere the pickets pace to and fro on their beats, 
and is known as the advance picket-post. It is under the charge of a 
captain or lieutenant, and is divided into three parts, each of which is 
called a "relief," the three being known as the first, the second, and 
the third relief, respectively. Each of these is under the charge of a 
non-commissioned otKcer, — a sergeant or corporal, — and must stand 
guard in succession, two hours on and four off, day and night, for the 
first twenty-four hours, at the end of which time the reserve one hun- 
dred in the rear march up and relieve the whole advance picket-post, 
which then goes to the rear, throws off its accoutrements, stacks its 
arms, and sleeps till it can sleep no more. I need hardly add that each 
picket is furnished with the countersign, which is regularly changed 
every day. While on the advance picket-post no one is permitted to 
sleep, whether on duty on the line or not, and to sleep on the picket- 
line is death ! At or near midnight a body of officers, known as "The 
Grand Rounds," goes all along the line, examining every picket, to see 
that " all is well." 

Andy and I had by request been put together on the second relief, 
and stood guard from eight to ten in the morning, two to four in the 
afternoon, and eight to ten and two to four at night. 

It was growing dark as we sat with our backs against the old elms 
on the lawn, telling stories, singing catches of songs, or discussing the 
probabilities of the summer campaign, when the call rang out : " Fall 
in, second relief ! " 

"Come on, Harry; get on your horse-hide and shooting-iron. We 
have a nice moonlight night for it, any way." 

Our line, as I have said, ran directly along the river's edge, up and 
down which Andy and I paced on our adjoining beats, each of us hav- 
ing to walk about a hundred yards, when we turned and walked back, 
with gun loaded and capped and at a right-shoulder shift. 



ON PICKET ALONG THE RAPPAHANNOCK. 67 

The iiiglit WHS beautiful. A full round moon shone out from 
among the fleecy clouds overhead. At my feet was the pleasant plash- 
ing of the river, ever gliding on, with the moonbeams dancing as if in 
S[)ort on its rippling surface, while the opposite bank was hid in the 
deep, solemn shadows made by the overhanging trees. Yet the 
shadows were not so deep there but that occasionally I could catch 
glimpses of a picket silently pacing his beat on the south side of the 
river, as I was pacing mine on the north, with bayonet flashing in the 
patches of moonlight as he passed up and down. I fell to wgndering, 
as I watched him, what sort of man he was? Young or old? Had he 
children at home, may be, in the far-off South? Or a father and 
mother? Did he wish this cruel war was over? In the next tight 
maybe he'd be killed ! Then I fell to wondering who had lived in that 
house up yonder, and what kind of people they were. Were the sous 
in the war? And the daughters, where were they? and w-ould they 
ever come back again and set up their household gods in the good old 
place once more ? My imagination was busy trying to picture the 
scenes that had enlivened the old plantation, the darkies at work in 
the fields, and the — 

" Hello, Yank ! We can lick you ! " 

"Beautiful night, Johnny, isn't it?" 

"Y-e-s, lovely!" 

But our orders are to hold as little conversation with the pickets 
on the other side of the river as necessary, and so, declining any fur- 
ther civilities, I resume my beat. 

" Harry, I'm going to lie down here at the upper end of your beat," 
says the sergeant who has charge of our relief. '• I ain't agoing to 
sleep, but I'm tired. Every time you come up to this end of your beat, 
speak to me, will you ? for I might fall asleep." 

" Certainly, sergeant." 

The first time I S2:>eak to him, the second, and the third, he answers 



68 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

readily enough, " All right, Harry " ; but at the fourth summons he is 
sound asleep. Sleep on, sergeant, sleep on ! Your slumbers shall not 
be broken by me, unless the " Grand Rounds " come along, for whom 
I must keep a sharp lookout, lest they catch you napping and give you 




IN A DANGKKOU.S PART OF HIS BEAT. 



a pretty court-martial ! But Grand Rounds or no, you shall have a 
little sleep. One of these days you, and many more of us besides, will 
sleep the last long sleep that knows no waking. But hark ! I hear tlie 
challenge up the line ! I must rouse you, after all. 

" Sergeant ! Sergeant ! Get up — Grand Rounds ! " 



ON PICKET ALONG THE RAPPAHANNOCK. 69 

" Halt I Who goes there ? " 

" The Grand Rounds." 

"Advance, officer of the Grand Rounds, and give the countersign." 

An officer steps out from the group that is half hidden in the 
shadow, and whispers in my ear, "Lafayette," when the whole body 
silently and stealthily passes down the line. 

Relieved at ten o'clock, we go back to our post at the house, and 
find it rather hard work to keep our eyes open from ten to two o'clock, 
but sleep is out of the question. At two o'clock in the morning the 
second relief goes out again, down through the patch of meadow, wet 
with the heavy dew, and along down the river to our posts. It is 
nearly three o'clock, and Andy and I are standing talking in low 
tones, he at the upper end of his beat and I at the lower end of mine, 
when — 

Bang! And the whistle of a ball is heard overhead among the 
branches. Springing forward at once by a common impulse, we get 
behind the shelter of a tree, run out our rifles, and make ready to fire. 

"You watch up river, Harry," whispers Andy, "and I'll watch 
down ; and if you see him trying to handle his ramrod, let him have 
it, and don't miss him." 

But apparently Johnny is in no hurry to load up again, and likes 
the deep shadow of his tree too well to walk his beat any more, for we 
wait impatiently for a long while and see nothing of him. By and by 
we hear him calling over, — "I say, Yank ! " 
"Well, Johnny?" 
" If you won't shoot, I won't." 

" Rather late in the morning to make such an offer, isn't it ? Didn't 
you shoot just now ? " 

" You see, my old gun went off by accident." 
" That's a likely yarn o' yours, Johnny ! " 
" But it's an honest fact, any way." 



70 BECOLLECTIOXS OF A. DKUMMER BOY. 

" "Well, Johnny, next time your gun's going to go off in that un- 
comfortable way, you will oblige us chaps over here by holding the 
muzzle down toward Dixie, or somebody *11 turn up his toes to the 
daisies before morning yet." 

" All right, Yank," said Johnny, stepping out from behind his tree 
into the bright moonlight like a man, '• but we can lick you, any way I " 

"Andy, do you think that fellow's gun went off by accident, or was 
the rascal trying to hurt somebody ? " 

'' I think he's honest in what he says, Harry. His gun might have 
gone oft' by accident. There's no telling, though; he'll need a little 
watching, I guess." 

But Johnny paces his beat harmlessly enough for the remainder of 
the hoar, singing catches of song, and whistling the airs of Dixie, 
while we pace ours as leisurely as he, but, with a wholesome regard for 
guns that go off" so easily of themselves, we have a decided preference 
for the dark shadows, and are cautious lest we linger too Ions: on those 
parts of our several beats where the bright moonbeams lie. 

It must not be supj)osed that the sentries of the two armies were 
forever picking one another off whenever opportunity offered ; for 
what good did it do to murder each other in cold blood? It only 
wasted powder, and did not forward the issue of the great conflict at 
all. Except at times immediately before or after a battle, or when 
there was some specially exciting reason for mutual defiance, the 
pickets were generally on friendly terms, conversed freely about the 
news of the day, exchanged newspapers, coffee, and tobacco, swapped 
knives, and occasionally had a friendly game of cards together. Some- 
times, however, picket duty was but another name for sharpshooting 
and bushwhacking of the most dangerous and deadly sort. 

When we had been relieved, and got back to our little bivouac 
under the elms on the lawn, and sat down there to discuss the episode 
of the night. I asked Andy, — 



ON PICKET ALONG THE RAPPAHANNOCK. 71 

" What was that piece of poetry you read to me the other da}^ 
about a picket being shot? It was something about ' All quiet along 
the Potomac to-night.' Do you remember the words well enough to 
repeat it? " 

" Yes, I committed it to memory, Harry ; and if you wish, I'll 
recite it for your benefit. We'll just imagine ourselves back in the 
dear old Academy again, and that it is ' declamation-day,' and my 
name is called, and I step up and declaim, — 

"ALL QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC TO-NIGHT. 

" All quiet along the Potomac, they say. 

Except, now and then, a stray })ickct 
Is shot, as he walks on his beat to and fro. 

By a rifleman hid in the thicket. 
'Tis nothing — a private or two, now and then, 

Will not count in the news of the battle ; 
Not an officer lost — only one of the men, 

Moaning out, all alone, the death-rattle. 

" All quiet along the Potomac to-night. 

Where tlie soldiers lie peacefully dreaming ; 
Tlieir tents, in the rays of the clear autumn moon, 

O'er the light of the watch-fires are gleaming. 
A tremulous sigh of the gentle night wind 

Through the forest leaves softly is creeping. 
While stars uj) above, with their glittering eyes, 

Keep guard, for the army is sleeping. 

" There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread, 

As he tramps from the rock to the fountain. 
And thinks of the two, in the low trundle bed. 

Far away in the cot on the mountain. 
His musket falls slack — his face, dark and grim, 

Grows gentle with memories tender. 
As he mutters a prayer for the children asleej) — 

For their mother — may Heaven defend her ! 



72 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

" He passes the fountain, the blasted i^iue tree — 

His footstep is lagging and weary ; 
Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light, 

Toward the shades of the forest so dreary. 
Hark ! was it the night wind that rustled the leaves ? 

Was it the moonlight so wondrously flashing ? 
It looked like a rifle — ' Ha ! Mary, good by ! ' 

And the life blood is ebbing and plashing ! 

" All quiet along the Potomac to-night — 
No sound save the rush of the river : 
While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead, — 
The picket's off duty forever! " 



CHAPTER VII. 

A IMUD MARCH AND A SHAM BATTLE. 

We had been quietly lying in our winter quarters there at Belle 
Plains some two months and more, without having yet had much to 
vary the dull monotony of a soldier's everyday life. There was, of 
course, plenty of work in the way of picket duty and endless drilling, 
and no lack of fun in the camp, of one kind or other ; but of all this 
we gradually wearied, and began to long for something new. Not that 
we were especially anxious for the fatigues of the march and the stir- 
ring scenes of the battlefield (of all which we were so far blissfully 
ignorant) : we simply felt that we were tired of the monotony of camp 
life, and, knowing that great things were before us, with all the ardor 
of young men for strange experiences and new adventures, we grad- 
ually became more and more anxious for the campaign to open. Alas ! 
we knew not what it was we wished for ; for when this celebrated 
campaign of '63 was ended, the few of us who remained to build our 
second winter quarters had seen quite enough of marching and fight- 
ing to last us the rest of our natural days. 

However, it was with feelings of relief that we suddenly received 
orders for the march early in the afternoon of Monday, April 20. As 
good luck would have it, Andy and I had just finished a hearty meal, 
consisting in the main of apple-fritters ; for by this time we had 
repaired our chimney, which had been destroyed by the fire, and had 
several times already prepared our fritters without burning our house 
down over our heads in the operation. Having finished our meal, we 
were lying lazily back against our knapsacks, disputing as to whose 
turn it was to wash the dishes, when Andy, hearing some outcry which 

73 



74 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

I had not noticed, suddenly leaped out of the little door in the side of 
our cabin into the company street, exclaiming as he did so, — 

" What's that sergeant ? What's up ? " 

" Orders to move, that's all, my boy," said the sergeant. "Orders 
to move. Pack up immediately." 

" Where are we going ? " queried a dozen voices in chorus ; for the 
news spread like fire in a clearing, and the boys came tumbling out of 
their cabins pell-mell and gathered about the sergeant in a group. 

" You tell me, and Til tell } on," answered the sergeant, with a 
shrug of his shoulders, as he shouted, — 

"Pack up immediately, men I We go in light marching order. 
No knapsacks ; only a shelter or a gum blanket, and three days' 
rations in your haversacks ; and be lively now ! " 

It was not long before we were all ready, with our thirty hard tack, 
a piece of pork, and a little coffee and sugar in our haversacks, and 
our gum blankets or shelters rolled and twisted into a shape some- 
what resembling an immense horse collar, slung over the shoulder 
diagonally across the body, as was universally the custom with the 
troops when knapsacks were to be dispensed with in winter, or had 
been thrown away in summer. We drummer-bo3'S, tightening our 
drums and tuning them up with a tap-tap-tap of the drumstick, took 
station on the parade ground up on the hill, awaiting the adjutant's 
signal to beat the assembly. At the first tap of our drums the whole 
regiment, in full view below us, poured out of quarters, like ants tum- 
bling out of their hill wlien disturbed by the thrust of a stick. As 
the men fell into line and marched by companies up the hill to the 
parade ground where the regiment was ordinaril}' formed, cheer ujjon 
cheer went up ; for the monotony of camp life %vas now plainl}' at an 
end, and we were at last to be up and doing, though where, or how, or 
what, no one could tell. 

When a drumhead is wet, it at once loses all its peculiar charm 



A MUD MABCH AND A SHAM BATTLE. 75 

and power. On the present occasion our drumheads were soon 
soaked, for it was raining hard. So, unloosening the ropes, we slung 
our useless sheepskins over our shoulders, as the order was given, 
"Forward — route-step — march!" The order "route-step" was al- 
ways a welcome and a merciful command, and the reader must l)ear in 
mind that troops on the march always go by the "route-step." 'i'hey 
march usually four abreast, indeed, but make no effort to keep step ; 
for marching in that way, though good enough for a mile or two on 
parade, would soon become intolerable if kept up for any great dis- 
tance. In "route-step" each man picks his way, selecting his steps at 
his pleasure, and carrying or shifting his arms at his convenience. 
Even then, marching is no easy matter, especially when it is raining, 
and you are marching over a clay soil, — and it did seem to us that the 
soil about Belle Plains was the toughest and most slippery clay in the 
world, at least in the roads that wound, serpent-like, around the hills 
amongst which we were marching, where, as we well knew, many a 
poor mule during the winter had stuck fast, and had to be literally 
pulled out or left to die in his tracks after the harness had been ripped 
off his back. 

At first, however, we had tolerable marching, for we took across 
the fields, and kept well upon the high ground as long as we could. 
We passed some good farms and comfortable-looking houses, where 
we should have liked to stop and buy bread and butter, or get 
" hoecake " and milk ; but there was no time for that, for we made no 
halt longer than was necessary to allow the rear to " close up," and 
then were up and away again at a swift pace. 

The afternoon wore on. Night set in, and we began to wonder, in 
all the simplicity of new troops, whether Uncle Sam expected us to 
march all night, as well as all day? To make matters still worse, 
as night fell, dark and drizzling, we left the high ground and came out 
on the main road of those regions, — and if we never before knew 



76 RECOLLECTIOXS OF A DRVM^IEB BOY. 

what Virginia mud Avas like, we knew it then. It was not only knee 
deep, but also so sticky, that when you set one foot down you could 
scarcely pull the other out. As for myself, I found my side-arms (if, 
indeed, they merited the name) a provoking incumbrance. Drummer- 
boys carried no arms except a straight, thin sword, fastened to a broad 
leathern belt about the waist. Of this we had been in the outstart quite 
proud, and had kept it polished with great care. However, this "• toad- 
sticker,'" as we were pleased to call it, on this mud march caused each 
of us drummer-boys a world of trouble, and well illustrated the saying 
that " pride goeth before a fall." For as we groped about in the dark- 
ness, and slid and plunged about in the mud, this miserable sword was 
forever getting tangled up with the wearer's legs, so that, before he 
was aware of it, down he went on his face in the mud. My own 
weapon gave me so many falls that night, tliat I was quite out 
of conceit with it. When we reached camp, after this march was 
done, I handed it to the quartermaster, agreeing to pay the price of it 
thrice over rather than carry it any more. The rest of the drummer- 
boys, I believe, carried theirs as far as Chancellorsville, and there 
solemnly hung them up on an oak-tree, where they are unto this day if 
nobody has found them and carried them off as trophies of war. 

We had a little darkey along with us on this march, who had an 
experience which was quite as provoking to him as it was amusing to 
us. The darkey's name was Bill. Other name he had none, except 
"Shorty," which had been given him by the boys because of his 
remarkably short stature. For although he was as strong as a man, 
and quite as old featured, he was nevertheless so dwarfed in size that 
the name Shorty seemed to become him better than his original name 
of Bill. Well, Shorty had been emplo^'ed by one of our captaiiis as 
cook, or, as seemed more likely on the present occasion, as a sort of 
sumpter-mule. For the captain, having an eye to comfort on the march, 
had loaded the poor darkey with a pack of blankets, tents, pans, 



A MUD MARCH AND A SHAM BATTLE. 77 

kettles, and general camp equipage, so large and bulky that it is no 
exaggeration to say that Shorty's pack was quite as large as himself. 
All along it had been a wonder to us how he had managed to pull 
throuo-h so far with all that immense bundle on his back ; but, with 
strength far beyond his size, he had trudged doggedly on at the 
captain's heels, over hill and through Held, until we came at nightfall 
to the main road. There, like many another sumpter-mule, he stuck 
fast in the mud, so that, puff and pull as he might, he could not pull 
either foot out, and had to be dragged out by two men, to the great 
merriment of all who, in the growing darkness, were aware of Shorty's 
misfortune. 

At length it became so dark that no one was able to see an inch 
before his face, and we lost the road. Torches were then lighted, in 
order to find it. Then we forded a creek, and then on and on we went, 
till at length we were allowed to halt, and fall out on either side of the 
road into a last year's cornfield, to " make fires and cook coffee." 

To make a fire was a comparatively easy matter, notwithstanding 
the rain ; for some one or other always had matches, and there were 
plent}'' of rails at hand, and these were dry enough when split open 
with a hatchet or an axe. In a few moments the fence around the 
cornfield was carried off, rail by rail, and everywhere was heard the 
sound of axes and hatchets, the premonitory symptoms of roaring 
camp-fires, which were soon everywhere blazing along the road. 

" Harry," said Lieutenant Dougal, " I haven't any tin cup, and 
when you get your coffee cooked, I believe I'll share it with you ; 
may I?" 

" Certainly, lieutenant. But where shall I get water to make the 
coffee with ? It's so dark that nobody can see how the land lies, so as 
to find a spring." 

Without telling the lieutenant what I did, I scooped up a tin cup 
full of water (whether clear or muddy I could not tell; it was too 



78 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

dark to see) out of ti corn furrow. I had tlie less liesitatioii in doing 
so because I found all the rest were doing the same, and I argued, that 
if they could stand it, why I could too — and so could the lieutenant. 
Tired and wet and sleepy as I was, I could not help but be sensi- 
ble of the strange, weird appearance the troops presented, as, coming 
out of the surrounding darkness, I faced the brilliant fires with groups 
of busy men about them. There they sat, squatting about the fires, 
each man with his quart tin cup suspended on one end of his iron 
ramrod or on some convenient stick, and each eager and impatient to 
be the first to bring his cup to the boiling-point. Thrusting m}^ cup 
in amongst the dozen others already smoking amid the crackling 
flames, I soon had the pleasure of seeing the foam rise to the surface,. 
— a sure indication that my coffee was nearly done. When the 
lieutenant and I had finished drinking it, I called his attention to the 
half inch of mud in the bottom of the cup, and asked him how 
he liked coffee made out of water taken from a last year's corn furrow ? 
" First rate," he replied, as he took out his tobacco pouch and pipe for 
a smoke. " First rate ; gives it the real old ' Virginny ' flavor, 
j-ou see." 

We were not permitted, however, to enjoy the broad glare of our 
fires very long after our coffee was disposed of, for we soon heard the 
command to " fall in " coming down the line. It was now half-past 
eleven o'clock, and away we went again slap- dash, in the thick dark- 
ness and bottomless mud. At three o'clock in the morning, during a 
brief halt, I fell asleep while sitting on my drum, and tumbled over 
into the road from sheer exhaustion. Partly aroused by my fall, I 
spread out my shelter on the road where the mud seemed the shal- 
lowest, and la}' down to sleep, chilled to the bone and shivering like 
an aspen. 

At six o'clock we were roused up, and a pretty appearance we 
presented too, for every man was covered with mud from neck to heel. 



A 3IUV MARCH AND A SHAM BATTLE. 



•9 



However, daylight having now come to our assistauce, we uiarcljed on 
in merrier mood in the direction of Tort Royal, a place or village on 
the Rappahannock, some thirty miles below Fredericksburg, and 
reached our destination about ten o'clock that forenoon. 

As we emerged from the woods and came out into the open fields, 
with the river in full view about a fourth of a mile in front, we fully 




THE quartp;rmastek's triumph. 

believed tliat now, at last, we were to go at once into battle. And so, 
-indeed, it seemed, as the long column halted in a cornfield a short dis- 
tance from the river, and the pontoon trains came up, and tlie pioneers 
were sent forward to help lay the bridges, and signal-flags began fly- 
ing, and officers and orderlies began to gallop gayly over the field — of 
course we were now about to go into our first battle, 

^' I guess we'll have, to cross the river, Harry," said Andy, as we 



80 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

stood together beside a corn shock and watched the men putting down 
the pontoons, "and then we'll have to go in on 'em and gobble 
'em up." 

" Yes ; gobbling up is all right. But suppose that over in the 
woods yonder, on the other side the river, there might happen to be a 
lot of Johnnies watching us, and all ready to sweep down on us and 
gobble U8 up, while we are crossing the river — eh ? That wouldn't be 
nearly so nice, would it? " 

"Hah!" exclaimed Andj^ ^' I'd just like to see 'em do it once! 
Look there ! There come the boys that'll take the Johnnies through 
the brush ! " 

Looking in the direction in which Andy was pointing, that is, 
away to the skirt of the woods in our rear, I beheld a battery of 
artillery coming up at full gallop toward us and making straight for 
the river. 

" Just you wait, now," said Andy, with a triumphant snap of his 
fingers, " till you hear those old bull dogs begin to bark, and you'll see 
the Johnnies get up and dust ! " 

As the battery came near the spot where we were standing, and 
could be plainly seen, I exclaimed, — 

" Why, Andy, I don't believe those dogs can bark at all ! Don't 
you see ? They are wooden logs covered over with black gum blankets 
and mounted on the front wheels of wagons, and — as sure as you're 
alive — it's our quartermaster on his gray horse in command of the 
battery ! " 

" Well, I declare ! " said Andy, with a look of mingled surprise and 
disappointment. 

There was no disputing the fact. Dummies they were, those 
cannon which Andy had so exultingly declared were to take the 
Johnnies through the brush ; and we began at once to suspect that 
this whole mud march was only a miserable ruse, or feint of war, got 



A MUD 31 ARCH AND A SHAM BATTLE. 81 

up expressly for the purpose of deceiving the enemy and making him 
believe that the wliole Union army was there in full force, when such 
was by no means the case. So there was not going to be any battle 
after all, then? Such indeed, as we learned a little later in the day, 
was the true state of things. Nevertheless, the pioneers went on with 
their work of putting down the pontoon boats for a bridge, and our 
gallant quartermaster, on his bobtail gray, with drawn sword, and 
shouting out his commands like a veritable major-general, swept by us 
with his battery of wooden guns, and then away out into the field like 
a whirlwind, apparently bent on the most bloody work imaginable. 
Now the battery would dash up and unlimber and get into position 
here ; then away on a gallop across the field and go into position 
there ; while the quartermaster would meanwhile swing his sword and 
shout himself hoarse, as if in the very crisis of a battle. 

It was, then, all, alas ! a ruse, and there wouldn't be any battle 
after all ! I think the general feeling among the men was one of dis- 
appointment, when about nine o'clock that night we were all with- 
drawn from the river side under cover of darkness, and bivouacked in 
the woods to our rear, where we were ordered to make as many and as 
large fires as we could, so as to attract the enemy's attention, and 
make him believe that the whole Army of the Potomac was concentra- 
ting at that point ; whereas the truth was that, instead of making any 
movement thirty miles helow Fredericksburg, the Union army, ten days 
later, crossed the river thirty miles above Fredericksburg, and met the 
enemy at Chancellorsville. 

But I have never forgotten our gallant quartermaster, and what a 
fine appearance he made as the commanding officer of a battery of 
artillery. It was an amusing sight ; for the reader must remember 
that a quartermaster, having to do only with army supplies, was a non- 
combatant, that is to sa}', he did no fighting, and in most cases "stayed 
by the stuff" among his army wagons, which were usually far enough 



82 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

to the rear in time of battle. Thinking of this little episode on our 
first mud march, there comes to my mind a conversation I recently had 
with a gentleman, my neighbor, who was also a quartermaster in the 
Union army. 

"" 1 was down in Virginia on business last spring," said the ex-quar- 
termaster, " in the neighborhood of Warreuton. (You remember War- 
renton ? Fine country down there.) And I found the people very 
kind and friendly, and inclined to forget the late unpleasantness. 
Well, one man came up to me, and says he, — 

" ' Major, you were in the war, weren't you ? ' 

" ' Yes,' said I, ^ I was ; but, I might as well admit it, I was on the 
other side of the fence. I was in the Union army.' 

"'You were ? Well, major, did you ever kill anybody?' 

"■ ' Oh yes,' said I ; ' lots of 'em, — lots of 'em, sir.' 

" ' You don't tell me I ' said the Virginian. ' ' And if I might be so 
bold as to ask — how did you generally kill them ? ' 

" Well,' said I, ' I never like to tell, because bragging is not in my 
line; but I'll tell you. You see, I never liked this thing of shooting 
people. It seemed to me a barbarous business, and besides, 1 was a 
kind of Quaker, and had conscientious scruples about bearing arms. 
And so, when the war broke out and I found I'd have to enter the 
army, maybe, whether I wanted to or not, I enlisted and got in as a 
quartermaster, thinking that in that position I wouldn't have to kill 
anybody with a gun, anyhow. But war is a dreadful thing, a dreadful 
thing, sir. And I found that even a quartermaster had to take a hand 
at killing people ; and the way I took for it was this : I always man- 
aged to have a good swift horse, and as soon as things would begin to 
look a little like fighting, and the big guns would begin to boom, why 
I'd clap spurs to my horse and make for the rear as fast as ever I 
could. And then when your people would come after me, they never 
could catch me ; they'd always get out of breath trying to come up to 



.4 MUD JIABCR AXD A SHAM BATTLE. 



83 



me. And in that way I've killed dozens of your people, sir, dozens of 
them, and all without powder or ball. They couldn't catch me, and 
always died for want of breath trying to get hold of me ! ' "* 

"We slept in the woods that night, under the dark pines and beside 
our great camp-fires ; and early the next morning took up the line of 
march for home. We marched all day over the hills, and as the sun 
was setting, came at last to a certain hilltop whence we could look 
down upon the odd-looking group of cabins and wigwams which we 
recognized as our camp, and which we hailed with cheers as our 
home. 




CHAPTER VIII. 

HOW WE GOT A SHELLING. 

" Pack up! "" " Fall in ! " All is stir and excitement in the camp. 
The bugles are blowing '' boots and saddles " for the cavalry, camped 
above us on the hill ; we drummer-boys are beating the " long roll " 
and "assembly" for the regiment; mounted orderlies are galloping 
along the hillside with great yellow envelopes stuck in their belts; 
and the men fall out of their miserable winter quarters, with shouts 
and cheers that make the hills about Falmouth ring again. For 
the winter is past ; the sweet breath of spring comes balmily up from 
the south, and the whole army is on the move, — whither? 

•'Say, captain, tell us where are we going?" But the captain 
doesn't know, nor even the colonel, — nobody knows. We are raw 
troops yet, and have not learned that soldiers never ask questions 
about orders. 

So, fall in there, all together, and forward I And we ten little 
drummer-boys beat gayly enough, " The Girl I left behind Me," as the 
line sweeps over the hills, through the woods, and on down to the 
river's edge. 

An'd soon here we are, on the Rappahannock, three miles below 
Fredericksburg. We can see, as we emerge from the woods, away 
over the river, the long line of earthworks thrown up by the enemy, 
and small dark specks moving about along the field, in the far, dim 
distance, which we know to be officers, or, perhaps, cavalry pickets. 
We can see, too, our own first division, laying down the pontoon- 
bridge, on which, according to a rumor that is spreading among us, we 
are to cross the river and charge the enemy's works. 

84 



HOW WE GOT A SHELLING. 85 

Here is an old army letter lying before me, written on my drum- 
head, in lead pencil, in that stretch of meadow by the river, where I 
heard my first shell scream and shriek : — 

" Near Rappahannock River, April 28. 

" Dear Father : We have moved to the river, and are just going 
into battle. I am well, and so are the boys. Your affectionate son, 

" Harry." 

But we do not go into battle this day, nor next day, nor at all at 
this point ; for we are making only a " feint," though we do not know 
it now, to attract the attention of the enemy from the main movement 
of the army at Chancellorsville, some twenty-five or thirty miles 
farther up the river. The men are in good spirits, and all ready for 
the fray ; but as the day wears on without further developments, arms 
are stacked, and we begin to roam about the hills. Some are writing 
letters home, some sleeping, some even fishing in a little rivulet that 
runs by us, when, toward three o'clock in the afternoon, and all of a 
sudden, the enemy opens fire on us with a salute of three shells, fired 
in rapid succession, not quite into our ranks, but a little to the left of 
us. And see ! over there where the Forty-third lies, to our left, come 
three stretchers, and you can see deep crimson stains on the canvas as 
they go by us, on a lively trot, to the rear ; for " the ball is opening, 
boys," and we are under fire for the first time. 

I wish I could convey to my readers some faint idea of the noise 
made by a shell as it flies, shrieking and screaming, through the air, 
and of that peculiar ivhirring sound made by the pieces after the shell 
has burst overhead or by your side. So loud, high-pitched, shrill, and 
terrible is the sound, that one unaccustomed to it would think, at first, 
that the very heavens were being torn down about his ears. 

How often I have laughed and laughed at myself when thinking of 
that first shelling we got there by the river ! For up to that time I 



S6 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMEB. BOY. 

had had a very poor, old-fashioned idea of what i. shell was like, 
having derived it, probably, from accounts of sieges in the Mexican 

war. 

I had thouglit a shell was a hollow ball of iron, filled with powder 
and furnished with a fuse, and that they threw it over into your ranks, 
and there it lay, hissing and spitting, till the fire reached the powder, 
and the shell burst, and killed a dozen men or so, — that is, if some 
venturesome fellow didn't run up and stamp the fire off the fuse 
before the miserable thing went off! Of a conical shell, shaped like a 
minie-ball, with ridges on the outside to fit the grooves of a rifled 
cannon, and exploding by a percussion-cap at the pointed end, I had 
no idea in the world. But that was the sort of thing they were firing 
at us now, — Hur-r-r — bang ! Hur-r-r — bang ! 

Throwing myself flat on my face while that terrible shriek is in 
the air, I cling closer to the gr ound while I hear that low, whirring 
sound near by, which I foolishly imagine to be the sound of a burning 
fuse, but which, on raising my head and looking up and around I find 
is the sound of pieces of exploded shells flying through tlie air about 
our heads ! The enemy has excellent range of us, and gives it to us 
hot and fast, and we fall in line and take it as best we may, and with- 
out the pleasure of replying, for the enemy's batteries are a full mile 
and a half away, and no Enfield rifle can reach half so far. 

"Colonel, move your regiment a little to the right, so as to get 
under cover of yonder bank." It is soon done ; and there, seated on a 
bank about twenty feet high, with our backs to the enemy, we 
let them blaze away, for it is not likely they can tumble a shell down 
at an angle of forty-five degrees. 

And now, see ! Just to the rear of us, and therefore in full view 
as we are sitting, is a battery of our own, coming up into position at 
full gallop, — a grand sight indeed ! The officers with swords flashing 
in the evening sunlight, the bugles clanging out the orders, the 



HOW WE GOT A SHELLING. 89 

carriages unlimbered, and the guns run up into position ; and now, that 
ever-beautiful drill of the artillery in action, steady and regular as the 
stroke of machinery ! How swiftly the man that handles the swab 
lias prepared his piece, while the runners have meanwliile brought up 
the little red bag of powder, and the long, conical shell from the 
caisson in the rear. How swiftly they are rammed home ! The 
lieutenant sights his piece, the man with the lanyard, with a sudden 
jerk, fires the cap, the gun leaps five feet to the rear with the recoil, 
and out of the cannon's throat, in a cloud of smoke, rushes the shell, 
shrieking out its message of death into the lines a mile and a half 
away, while our boys rend the air with wild hurrahs, for the enemy's 
fire is answered. 

Now ensues an artillery duel that keeps the air all quivering 
and quaking about our ears for an hour and a half, and it is all 
the more exciting that we can see the beautiful drill of the batteries 
beside us, with that steady swabbing and ramming, running and sight- 
ing, and bang ! bang ! bang ! The mystery is how in the world they 
can load and fire so fast. 

" Boys, what are you trying to do ? " 

It is Major-General Abner Doubleday, our division commander, 
who reins in his horse and asks the question. He is a fine-looking 
officer, and is greatly beloved by the boys. He rides his horse beau- 
tifully, and is said to be one of the finest artillerists in the service, as 
he may well be, for it was his hand that fired the first gun on the 
Union side from the walls of Fort Sumter. 

"Why, general, we are trying to put a shell through that stone 
barn over tliere ; it's full of sharpshooters." 

" Hold a moment! " and the general dismounts and sights the gun. 
" Try that elevation once, sergeant," he says ; and the shell goes crash- 
ing through the barn, a mile and a half away, and the sharpshooters 
come pouring out of it like bees out of a hive. " Let them have it so. 



90 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUM2IEB BOY. 

boys." And the general has mounted, and rides, laughing, away along 
the line. 

Meanwhile, something is transpiring immediately before our eyes 
that amuses us greatly. Not more than twenty yards away from us is 
another high bank, corresponding exactly with the one we are occup}'^- 
ing, and running parallel with it, the two hills inclosing a little ravine 
some twenty or thirty yards in width. 

This second high bank, the nearer one, you must remember, faces 
the enemy's fire. The water has worn out of the soft sand rock a sort 
of cave, in which Darkie Bill, our company cook, took refuge at the 
crack of the first shell. And there, crouching in the narrow recess of 
the rock, we can see him shivering with affright. Every now and then, 
when there is a lull in the firing, he comes to the wide-open door of his 
house, intent upon flight, and, rolling up the great whites of his eyes, 
is about to step out and run, when hur-r-r — bang — crack ! goes the 
shell, and poor scared Darkie Bill dives into his cave again, head-first, 
like a frog into a pond. 

After repeated attempts to run, and repeated frog-leaps backward, 
the poor fellow takes heart and cuts for the woods, pursued by the 
laughter and shouts of the regiment, for which he cares far less, how- 
ever, than for that terrible shriek in the air, which, he afterward told 
us, "was a-sayin' all de time, 'Where's dat niggar ! Where's dat 
nigger ! Where's dat nigger ! ' " 

As nightfall comes on, the firing ceases. Word is passed around 
that under cover of night we are to cross the pontoons and charge the 
enemy's works ; but we sleep soundly all night on our arms, and are 
awakened only by the first streaks of light in the morning sky. 

We have orders to move. A staff officer is delivering orders to our 
colonel, who is surrounded by his staff. They press in toward the 
messenger, standing immediately below me as I sit on the bank, when 
the enemy gives us a morning salute, and the shell comes ricochetting 



HOW WE GOT A SHELLING. 



91 



over tli/e hill and tumbles into a mud puddle about which the gioup 
is gathered; the mounted officers crouch in their saddles and spur 
hastily away, the foot officers throw themselves Hat on their faces into 
the mud; the drummer boy is bespattered with mud and dirt; but 
fortunately, the shell does not explode, or my readers would never have 
heard how we got our first shelling. 

And now, ''Fall in, men ! " and we are off on a double-quick, in a 
cloud of dust, amid the rattle of canteens and tin cups, and the regular 
flop^jiop of cartridge boxes and bayonet scabbards, pursued for two 
miles by the hot fire of the enemy's batteries, for a long, hot, weary 
day's march to the extreme right of the army at Chancellorsville. 




CHAPTER IX. 

IN THE WOODS AT CHANCELLOKSVILLE. 

It is no easy matter to describe a long day's march to one who 
knows nothing of the hardships of a soldier's life. That a body of 
troops marched some twenty-five or thirty miles on a certain day, from 
daylight to midnight, from one point to another, seems, to one who has 
not tried it, no great undertaking. Thirty miles ! It is but an hour's 
ride in the cars. Nor can the single pedestrian, who easily covers 
greater distances in less time, have a full idea of the fatigue of a 
soldier as he throws himself down by the roadside, utterly exhausted, 
when the day's march is done. 

Unnumbered circumstances combine to test the soldier's powers of 
endurance to the very utmost. He has, in the first place, a heavy load 
to carry. His knapsack, haversack, canteen, ammunition, musket, and 
accoutrements are by no means a light matter at the outset, and they 
grow heavier with every additional mile of the road. So true is this, 
that, in deciding what of our clothing to take along on a march and 
what to throw awa}^ we soon learned to be guided by the soldiers' 
proverb that " what weighs an ounce in the morning weighs a pound 
at night." Tlien, too, the soldier is not master of his own movements, 
as is the solitary pedestrian ; for he cannot pick his way, nor husband 
his strength by resting when and where he may choose. He marches 
generally " four abreast," sometimes at double-quick, when the rear is 
closing up, and again at a most provokingly slow pace when there is 
some impediment, on the road ahead. Often his canteen is empty, no 
water is to be had, and he marches on in a cloud of dust, with parched 

92 



IN THE WOODS AT CHANCELLOllSVILLE. 93 

throat and lips and trembling limbs, — on and ou, and still on, until 
about the midnight hour, at the final " Halt ! " he drops to the ground 
like a shot, feverish, irritable, exhausted in body and soul. 

It would seem a shame and a folly to take troops thus utterly worn 
out, and hurl them at midnight into a battle, the issue of which hanos 
trembling in the balance. Yet this was what the}' came pretty near 
doing with us, after our long march from four miles below Fredericks- 
burg to the extreme right of the army at Chancellorsville. 

I have a very indistinct and cloudy recollection of that march. I 
can quite well remember the beginning of it, when, at the early dawn, 
the enemy's batteries drove us, under a sharp shell fire, at a lively 
double-quick for the first four miles. And I can well recall how, at 
midnight, we threw ourselves under the great oak trees near Chancel- 
lors\ ille, and were in a moment sound asleep, amid the heaven-rending 
thunder of the guns, the unbroken roll of the musketry, and the 
shouts and yells of the lines charging each other a quarter of a mile to 
our front. But when I attempt to call up the incidents that happened 
by the way, I am utterly at a loss. My memory has retained nothing 
but a confused mass of images : here a farmhouse, there a mill ; a com- 
pany of stragglers driven on by the guard ; a surgeon writing upon the 
pommel of his saddle an order for an ambulance to carry a poor 
exhausted, and but half-conscious fellow; an officer's staff or an 
orderly dashing by, at a lively trot ; a halt for coffee in the edge of a 
wood ; filling a canteen (oh, blessed memory !) at some meadow 
stream or roadside spring ; and on, and on, and on, amid the rattle of 
bayonet scabbards' and tin cups, mopping our faces and crunching our 
hard-tack as we went, — this, and such as this, is all that will now 
come to mind. 

But of events toward nightfall the images are clearer, and more 
sharply defined. The sun is setting, large, red, and fiery looking, in a 
dull haze that hangs over the thickly wooded horizon. We are near- 



94 FECOLLi:CTIOXS OF A jDJWJniEB BOY. 

incj the ford where Ave are to cross the Rappahaimock. We come to 
some hilltop, and — hark! A deep, ominous growl comes, from how- 
man}- miles away we know not. Now another; then another! 

On, bovs, on ! There is work doing ahead, and terrible work it is, 
for two great armies are at each other's throat, and the battle is raging 
fierce and high, although we know nothing as vet of how it may 
be cjoing. 

On, — on, — on ! 

Turning sharp to the left, we enter the approach to the ford, the 
road leading, in places, through a deep cut, — great high pine trees on 
either side of the road shutting out the little remaining light of day. 
Here we find the first actual eyidences of the great battle that 
is raging ahead: long lines of ambulances, filled with wounded; 
yonder a poor fellow with a bandaged head, sitting by a spring ; and a 
few steps away another, his agonies now oyer ; here, two men, one, 
with his arm in a sling, supporting the other, who has turned 
his musket into a crutch ; then more ambulances, and more woimded 
in increasing numbers ; orderlies dashing by at full gallop, while the 
thunder of the guns grows louder and closer as we step on the pon- 
toons, and so cross the gleaming river. 

" Colonel, your men. haye had a hard day's march ; you will now 
let them rest for the night." 

It is a staff ofiicer whom I hear deliyering this order to our 
colonel, and a sweeter message I think I neyer heard. We cast wistful 
eyes at the half-extinguished camp-fires of some regiment that has been 
making coffee by the roadside, and has just moyed off, and we think 
them a godsend, as the order is given to " Stack arms ! " But before 
we have time even to unsling knapsacks, the order comes, '• Fall in ! " 
and away we go again, steadily plodding on through that seemingly 
endless forest of scrub pine and oak, straight in the direction of the 
booming guns ahead. 




A tiUilUEUN WillTlNU UPON THE POMMEL OF HIS SADDLE AN ORDEU 

FOR AN AMBULANCE. 



IN THE WOODS AT CJiANCELLORSVILLE. 97 

Why whippoorwills were made I do not know — doubtless for some 
wise purpose ; but never before that night did I know they had been 
made in such countless numbers. Every tree and bush was full of 
them, it seemed. There were thousands of them, there were tens of 
thousands of them, there were millions of them ! and every one 
whistling, as fast as it could, " Who-hoo-hoo ! who-hoo-hoo ! wlio-hoo- 
hoo ! Had they been vultures or turkey-buzzards, — vast flocks of 
which followed the army wherever we went, almost darkening the sky 
at times, and always suggesting unpleasant reflections, — they could 
could not have appeared more execrable to me. Many were the 
imprecations hurled at them as we plodded on under the light of the 
great red moon, now above the tree tops, while still from every bush 
came that monotonous half screech, half groan, " Who-hoo-hoo ! 
Who-hoo-hoo ! " 

But, oh, miserable birds of ill-omen, there is something more 
ominous in the air than your lugubrious night song ! There is borne 
to our ears at every additional step the deepening growl of the cannon 
ahead. As the moon mounts higher, and we advance farther along the 
level forest land, we hear still more distinctly another sound — the 
long, unbroken roll of musketry. 

Forward, now, at double-quick, until we are on the outskirts of the 
battlefield. 

Shells are crashing through the tall tree tops overhead. 

" Halt ! Load at will ! Load ! " 

In the moonlight that falls shimmering across the road, as I look 
back over the column, I see the bright steel flashing, while tlie jingle 
of the ramrods makes music that stirs the blood to a quicker pulse. A 
well-known voice calls me down the line, and Andy whispers a few 
hurried words into my ear, while he grasps my hand hard. But we are 
off at a quickstep. A sharp turn to the left, and — hark ! The 
firing has ceased, and they are " charging " down there ! That 



98 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

peculiar, and afterward well-known, " Yi ! Yi ! Yi ! " indicates a 
struggle, for which we are making straight and fast. 

At this moment comes the order: "Colonel, you will countermarch 
your men, and take position down this road, on the right. Follow 
me ! " The staff officer leads us half a mile to the right, where, 
sinking down utterly exhausted, we are soon sound asleep. 

Of the next day or two I have but an indistinct recollection. 
What with the fatigue and excitement, the hunger and thirst, of the 
last few daj^s, a high fever set ii: for me. I became half delirious, and 
lay under a great oak tree, too weak to walk, my head nearly splitting 
with the noise of a battery of steel cannon, in position fifty yards to 
the left of me. That battery's beautiful but terrible drill I could 
plainly see. My own corps was put on reserve : the men built strong 
breastworks, but took no part in the battle, excepting some little skir- 
mishing. Our day was yet to come. 

One evening, — it was the last evening we spent in the woods at 
Chancellorsville, — a sergeant of my company came back to where we 
were, with orders for me to hunt up and bring an ambulance for one 
of the lieutenants, who was sick. 

"You see, Harry, there are rumors that we are going to retreat 
to-night, for the heavy rains have so swollen the Rappahannock that 
our pontoons are in danger of being carried away, and it appears that, 
for some reason or other, we've got to get out of this at once, under 
cover of night, and lieutenant can't stand the march. So you will go 
for an ambulance. You'll find the ambulance-park about two miles 
from here. You'll take through the woods in that direction," — point- 
ing with his finger, — " until you come to a path ; follow the path till 
you come to a road ; follow the road, taking to the right and straight 
ahead, till you come to the ambulances." 

Although it was raining hard at the time, and had been raining for 
several days, and though I myself was probably as sick as the lieu- 



IN THE WOODS AT CHANCELLORS VILLE. 99 

tenant, and felt positive that the troops would have started in retreat 
before I could get back, yet it was ni}^ duty to obey, and off I went. 

I had no difficulty in lindiug the path ; and I reached the road all 
rio-ht. Fording a stream, the corduroy bridge of which was all afloat, 
and walkino- rapidly for a half hour, I found the ambulances all drawn 
up ready to retreat. 

"We have orders to pull out from here at once, and can send an 
ambulance for no man. Your lieutenant must take his chance." 

It was getting dark fast, as I started back with this message. I 
was soaked to the skin, and the rain was pouring down in torrents. 
To make bad worse, in the darkness I turned off from the road at the 
wrong point, missed the path, and quite lost my way ! What was to 
be done ? If I should spend much time where I was, I was certain to 
be left behind, for I felt sure that the troops were moving off ; and yet 
I feared to make for any of the fires I saw through the woods, for I 
knew the lines of the two armies were near each other, and I might, as 
like as not, walk over into the lines of the enemy. 

Collecting my poor fevered faculties, I determined to follow the 
course of a little stream I heard plashing down among the bushes to 
the left. By and by I fixed my eye on a certain bright camp-fire, and 
determined to make for it at all hazards, be it of friend or of foe. 
Judge of my joyful surprise when I found it was burning in front of 
my own tent ! 

Standing about our fire, trying to get warm and dry, our fellows 
were discussing the question of the retreat about to be made. But I 
was tired and sick, and wet and sleepy, and did not at all relish the 
prospect of a night march through the woods in drenching rain. So, 
putting on the only remaining dry shirt I had left, I had two on 
already, and they were soaked through, I lay down under my shelter, 
shivering and with chattering teeth, but soon fell sound asleep. 

In the gray light of the morning we were suddenly awakened by 



100 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

a loud " Halloo there, you chaps ! Better be digging out of this ! 
We're the last line of cavalry pickets, and the Johnnies are on our 
heels ! " 

It was an easy matter for us to sling on our knapsacks and rush 
after the cavalry man, until a double-quick of two miles brought us 
within the rear line of defences thrown up to cover the retreat. 



CHAPTER X. 

THE FIRST DAY AT GETTYSBURG. 

" Harry, I'm getting tired of this thing. It's becoming monoto- 
nous, this thing of being roused every morning at four, with orders to 
pack up and be ready to march at a moment's notice, and then lying 
around here all day in the sun. I don't believe we are going any- 
where, anyhow." 

We had been encamped for six weeks, of which I need give no 
special account, only saying that in those " summer quarters," as they 
might be called, we went on with our endless drilling, and were baked 
and browned, and thoroughly hardened to the life of a soldier in the 
field. 

The monotony of which Andy complained did not end that day, 
nor the next. For six successive days we were regularly roused at 
four o'clock in the morning, with orders to " pack up and be ready to 
move immediately ! " only to unpack as regularly about the middle of 
the afternoon. We could hear our batteries pounding away in the 
direction of Fredericksburg, but we did not then know that we were 
being held well in hand till the enemy's plan had developed itself 
into the great march into Pennsylvania, and we were let off in 
hot pursuit. 

So, at last, on the twelfth of June, 1863, we started, at five o'clock 
in the morning, in a northwesterly direction. My journal says: "Very 
warm, dust plenty, water scarce, marching very hard. Halted at dusk 
at an excellent spring, and lay down for the night with aching limbs 
and blistered feet." 

I pass over the six days' continuous marching that followed, 

101 



102 EECOLLECTIOyS OF A UEUJmKK EOT. 

steadily on toward the nortli. pausing oilIt to relate sexeral ineidentB 
that liappened by the way. 

On the f onrteenih we were ra-cing with the enemy — we beinof 
pushed on t.o the ntmost of human endurance — for the possession of 
the defences of Washington. From fixe o'cloek of that morning tiTl 
three the following morning. — that is to say from daylight to dar- 
light, — we were hiirried along nnder a burning June sun, with no halt 
longer than sufficient to recruit our strength with a hasty cup of coffee 
at noon and nightfall Xine, t«n, eleven, twelve o'doct at night, and 
still on ! It was almost more than flesh could endure. Men fell out 
of line in the darkness by the score, and tumbled over by the roadside, 
asleep almost before they touched the ground. 

I iCTnember how a great tall fellow in our companv made us laugh 
along soxaewbexe about one o'eloct that morning, — - Pctinter.* " we 
called him, — an est-iellent soldier, who afterward fell at his post at 
SitottsylTania- He had been trndging on in sullen silence for hours, 
when all of a sn«kiegii, coming to a halt, he brought his piece to ~ order 
aims ~ on the hard road with a ring, toot off his cap, and, in language 
far iBore foaxilile tban elegant, began forthwith to denounce boii 
pana^ to tbe "war, *^iT&m. A to iTzard," in all branches of the serriee, 
cdvil aad HdBtary, armj aad navy, analleiy- inmnrry. and eavalrr. and 
denanded that ibe enemy should eoaae cm in full force here and now. 
-^and m £ght tb^n aH, sb^le banded and a^gcnae. the whole pack of 
*em ! Fm lired of tJas everlasting maicfciii^ and I 'want tc» fight ! " 

~ Three ebeeis for Pointer !~ died same <Hie, and we laughed 
heartily as we tailed dc^edly on to Manaasaa^ -wMfJi -we reached 
at three o'doei A- M-. June loth. I ean aaraoe you, we lost no lime 
in stretphing ouiselves ai full length in ibe tall summer grass. 

~ James MeFadden. report tc> the : - ; ■ for camp guard ! Janies 
McFadden ! Anybody inow where - __. J:a.dd£n is? ~ 

Xo"w thai was rather hard, wasn't it I' To march frcon daylight to 




/x' 







02«: THE MARCH TO AND FR031 f*"^ 

GETTYSBURG. 




THE FIRST DAY AT GETTYSBURG. 105 

daylight, and lie down for a rest of probably two hours before starting 
again, and then to be called up to stand throughout those precious two 
hours on guard duty ! 

I knew very well where McFadden was, for wasn't he lying right 
beside me in the grass ? But just then I was in no humor to tell. 
The camp might well go without a guard that night, or the orderly 
might find McFadden in the dark if he could. 

But the rules were strict, and the punishment was severe, and poor 
McFadden, bursting into tears of vexation, answered like a man : 
" Here I am, orderly ; I'll go." It was hard. 

Two weeks later, both McFadden and the orderly went where there 
is neither marching nor standing guard any more. 

Now comes a long rest of a week, in the woods near the Potomac ; 
for we have been marching parallel with the enemy, and dare not go 
too fast, lest, by some sudden and dexterous move in the game, he 
should sweep past our rear in upon the defences of Washington. And 
after this sweet refreshment, we cross the Potomac on pontoons, and 
march, perhaps with a lighter step, since we are nearing home, through 
the smiling fields and pleasant villages of " Maryland, my Maryland." 
At Poolesville, a little town on the north bank of the Potomac, we 
smile as we see a lot of children come trooping out of the village 
school, — a merry sight to men who have seen neither woman nor child 
these six months and more, and a touching sight to many a man in 
the ranks as he thinks of his little flaxen heads in the far-away home.- 
Ay, think of them now, and think of them full tenderly too, for many 
a man of you shall never have child climb on his knee any more ? 

As we enter one of those pleasant little Maryland villages, — Jef- 
ferson by name, — we find on the outskirts of the place two young 
ladies and two young gentlemen waving the good old flag as we pass, 
and singing, " Rally round the Flag, Boys ! " The excitement along 
the line is intense. Cheer on cheer is given, by regiment after regiment, 



106 liECOLLECTlONS OF A DEUMMER BOY. 

as we pass along, we drummer-boys beating, at the coloners express 
orders, the old tune, " The Girl I left Behind me," as a sort of 
response. Soon we are in among the hills again, and still the cheering 
goes on in the far distance to the rear. 

Only ten days later, we passed through the same village again, and 
were met by the same young ladies and gentlemen, waving the same 
flag and singing the same song. But though we tried twice, and tried 
hard, we could not cheer at all ; for there's a difference between five 
hundred men and one hundred, — is there not? So, that second time, 
we drooped our tattered flags, and raised our caps in silent and sorrow- 
ful salute. Through Middletown next, where a rumor reaches us that 
the enemy's forces have occupied Harrisburg, and where certain ladies, 
standing on a balcony and waving their handkerchiefs as we pass by, 
in reply to our colonel's greeting, that " we are glad to see so many 
Union people here," answer, " Yes ; and we are glad to see the Yankee 
soldiers, too." 

From Middletown, at six o'clock in the evening, across the moun- 
tain to Frederick, on the outskirts of wliich city we camp for the 
night. At half-past five next morning (June 29th) we are up and 
away, in a drizzling rain, through Lewistown and Mechanicstown, near 
which latter place we pass a company of Confederate prisoners, 
twenty-four in number, dressed in well-worn gray and butternut, 
which makes us think that the enemy cannot be far ahead. After a 
liard march of twenty-five miles, the greater part of the way over a 
turnpike, we reach Emmittsburg at nightfall, some of us quite barefoot, 
and all of us footsore and weary. Next morning (June 30th) at nine 
o'clock we were up and away again, " on the road leading towards 
Gettysburg," they say. After crossing the line between Maryland 
and Pennsylvania, where the colonel halts the column for a moment, 
in order that we may give three rousing cheers for the " Old Keystone 
State," we march perceptibly slower, as if there were some impediment 



THE FIRST DAY AT GETTYSBURG. 107 

in the way. There is a feeling among the men that the enemy 
is somewhere near. Towards noon we leave the public road, and taking 
across tlie fields, form in line of battle along the rear of a wood, and 
pickets are thrown out. There is an air of .uncertainty and suspicion 
in the ranks as we look to the woods, and consider what our pickets 
may possibly unmask there. But no developments have yet been 
made when darkness comes, and we bivouac for the night behind a 
strong stone wall. 

Passing down along the line of glowing fires, in the gathering 
gloom, I come on one of my company messes squatting about a iire, 
cooking supper. Joe Gutelius, corporal and color-guard from our 
company, is superintending the boiling of a piece of meat in a tin can, 
while Sam Kuhl and his brother Joe are smoking their pipes near by. 

" Boys, it begins to look a little dubious, don't it ? Where is 
Jimmy Lucas ? " 

" He's out on picket, in tlie woods yonder. Yes, Harry, it begins 
to look a little as if we were about to stir the Johnnies out of the 
brush," says Joe Gutelius, throwing another rail on the fire. 

" If we do," says Joe Ruhl, " remember that you have the post of 
honor, Joe, and 'if any man pulls down that flag, shoot him on the 
spot ! ' " 

" Never you fear for that," answers Joe Gutelius. " We of the 
color-guard will look out for the flag. For my part, I'll stay a dead 
man on the field before the colors of the 150th are disgraced." 

" You'll have some tough tussling for your colors, then," says Sam. 
" If the 'Louisiana Tigers' get after you once, look out ! " 

" Who's afraid of the ' Louisiana Tigers ' ? I'll back the ' Buck- 
tails ' against the ' Tigers ' any day. Stay and take supper with 
us, Harry ! We are going to have a feast to-night. I have the heart 
of a beef boiling in the can yonder ; and it is done now. Sit up, boys, 
get out your knives, and fall to." 



108 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

* 

" We were going to have boiled lion heart for supper, Harry," says 
Joe Ruhl, with mock apology for the fare, " but we couldn't catcli any 
lions. They seem to be scarce in these parts. Maybe, we can catch a 
tiger to-morrow, though." 

Little do we think, as we sit thus clieerily talking about the blazing 
fire behind the stone wall, that it is our last supper together, and that 
ere another nightfall two of us will be sleeping in the silent bivouac of 
the dead. 

" Colonel, close up your men, and move on as rapidly as possible." 
It is the morning of July 1st, and we are crossing a bridge over a 
stream, as the staff officer, having delivered this order for us, dashes 
down the line to hurry up the regiments in the rear. We get up on a 
high range of hills, from which we have a magnificent view. The day 
is bright, the air is fresh and sweet with the scent of the new- mown 
hay, and the sun shines out of an almost cloudless sky, and as we gaze 
away off yonder down the valley to the left — look! Do you see 
that? A puff of smoke in mid air! Very small, and miles away, as 
the faint and long-coming " boom " of the exploding shell indicates ; 
but it means that something is going on yonder, away down in the 
valley, in which, perhaps, we may have a hand before the day is done. 
See ! another — and another ! Faint and far away comes the long- 
delayed " boom ! " " boom ! " echoing over the' hills, as the staff officer 
dashes along the lines with orders to " double-quick ! double-quick ! " 

Four miles of almost constant double-quicking is no light work at 
any time, least of all on such a day as this memorable first day of July, 
for it is hot and dusty. But we are in our own state now, boys, and 
the battle is opening ahead, and it is no time to save breath. On we 
go, now up a hill, now over a stream, now checking our headlong rush 
for a moment, for we must breathe a little. But the word comes along 
the line again, "double-quick," and we settle down to it with right 



THE FIRST DAY AT GETTYSBURG. HI 

o-ood ^vill, wlule the cannon ahead seem to be getting nearer and 
k.nder. There's little said in the ranks, for there is little breath for 
talking, though every man is busy enough thinking. We all feel, 
somehow, that our day has come at last — as indeed it has ! 

We get in through the outskirts of Gettysburg, tearing down the 
fences of the town lots and outlying gardens as we go ; we pass a bat- 
tery of brass guns drawn up beside the Seminary, some hundred yards 
in front of which building, in a strip of meadow land, we halt, and 
rapidly form the line of battle. 

" General, shall we unsling knapsacks?" shouts some one down the 
line to our division general, as he is dashing by. 

" Never mind the knapsacks, boys ; it's the state now ! " 
And he plunges his spurs into the flanks of his horse, as he takes 
the stake-and-rider fence at a leap, and is away. 
" Unfurl the flags, color-guard ! " 

" Now, forward, double " 

" Colonel, we're not loaded yet ! " 

A laugh runs along the line as, at the command " Load at will — 
load ! " the ramrods make their merry music, and at once the word is 
civen, "Forward, double-quick!" and the line sweeps up that rising 
ground with banners gayly flying, and cheers that rend the air, -a 
sight, once seen, never to be forgotten. 

I suppose my readers wonder what a drummer-boy does in time of 
battle. Perhaps they have the same idea I used to have, namely, that 
it is the duty of a drummer-boy to beat his drum all the time the 
battle rages, to encourage the men or drown the groans of the 
wounded ! But if they will reflect a moment, they will see that amid 
the confusion and noise of battle, there is little chance of martial 
music being either heard or heeded. Our colonel had long ago given 

us our orders, — 

"You drummer-boys, in time of an engagement, are to lay aside 



112 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DBUMMER BOY. 

your drums and take stretchers and help off the wounded. I expect 
you to do this, and you are to remember that, in doing it, you are just 
as much helping the battle on as if you were fighting with guns in 
your hands." 

And so we sit down there on our drums and watch the line going 
in with cheers. Forthwith we get a smart shelling, for there is evi- 
dently somebody else watching that advancing line besides ourselves ; 
but they have elevated their guns a little too much, so that every shell 
passes quite over the line and ploughs up the meadow sod about us 
in all directions. 

Laying aside our knapsacks, we go to the Seminary, now rapidly 
filling with the wounded. This the enemy surely cannot know, or 
they wouldn't shell the building so hard ! We get stretchers at the 
ambulances, and start out for the line of battle. We can just see our 
regimental colors waving in the orchard, near a log house about three 
hundred yards ahead, and we start out for it — I on the lead, and 
Daney behind. 

There is one of our batteries drawn up to our left a short distance 
as we run. It is engaged in a sharp artillery duel with one of the 
enemy's, which we cannot see, although we can hear it plainly enough, 
and straight between the two our road lies. So, up we go, Daney and 
I, at a lively trot, dodging the shells as best we can, till, panting for 
breath, we set down our stretcher under an apple tree in the orchard, 
in which, under the brow of the hill, we find the regiment lying, one 
or two companies being out on the skirmish line ahead. 

I count six men of Company C lying yonder in the grass — killed, 
they say, by a single shell. Close beside them lies a tall, magnificently 
built man, whom I recognize by his uniform as belonging to the " Iron 
Brigade," and therefore probably an Iowa boy. He lies on his back at 
full length, with his musket beside him — calm looking as if asleep, 
but having a fatal blue mark on his forehead and the ashen pallor of 



THE FIRST DAY AT GETTYSBURG. 113 

death on his countenance. Andy calls me away for a moment to look 
after some poor fellow whose arm is off at the shoulder ; and it was 
just time I got away, too, for immediately a shell plunges into the sod 
where I had been sitting, tearing my stretcher to tatters, and plough- 
ing up a great furrow under one of the boys who had been sitting 
immediately behind me, and who thinks, " That was rather close shav- 
ing, wasn't it, now?" The bullets whistling overhead make pretty 
music with their ever-varying " z-i-p ! z-i-p ! " and we could imagine 
them so many bees, only they have such a terribly sharp sting. They 
tell me, too of a certain cavalry man, Dennis Buckley, Sixth Michigan 
cavalry, it was, as I afterwards learned — let history preserve the brave 
boy's name, who, having had his horse shot under him, and seeing that 
first-named shell explode in Company C with such disaster, exclaimed, 
"• That is the company for me ! " He remained with the regiment all 
day, doing good service with his carbine, and he escaped unhurt ! 

" Here they come boys ; we'll have to go in at them on a charge, I 
guess I " Creeping close around the corner of the log-house, I can see 
the long lines of gray sweeping up in fine style over the fields ; but I 
feel the colonel's hand on my shoulder. 

" Keep back, my boy ; no use exposing yourself in that way." 

As I get back behind the house and look around, an old man is 
seen approaching our line through the orchard in the rear. He is 
dressed in a long blue swallow-tailed coat and high silk hat, and 
coming up to the colonel, he asks, — 

" Would you let an old chap like me have a chance to fight in your 
ranks, colonel ? " 

" Can you shoot ? " inquires the colonel. 

" Oh yes, I can shoot, I reckon," says he. 

" But where are youv cartridges ? " 

" I've got 'em here, sir," says the old man, slapping his hand on 
his trousers pocket. 



114 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

And so '' old John Burns," of whom every schoolboy has heard, 
takes his place in the line, and loads and fires with the best of them, 
and is left wounded and insensible on the field when the day is done. 

Reclining there under a tree while the skirmishing is going on in 
front, and the shells are tearing up the sod around us, I observe how 
evidently hard pressed is that battery yonder in the edge of the wood, 
about fifty yards to our right. The enemy's batteries have excellent 
range on the poor fellows serving it. And when the smoke lifts or 
rolls away, in great clouds, for a moment, we can see the men running, 
and ramming, and sighting, and firing, and swabbing, and changing 
position every few minutes, to throw the enemy's guns out of range a 
little. The men are becoming terribly few, but nevertheless their guns, 
with a rapidity that seems unabated, belch forth great clouds of smoke, 
and send the shells shrieking over the plain. 

Meanwhile, events occur which give us something more to think of 
than mere skirmishing and shelling. Our beloved brigadier-general, 
Roy Stone, stepping out a moment to reconnoitre the enemy's position 
and movements, is seen by some sharpshooter off in a tree, and is 
carried, severely wounded, into the barn. Our colonel, Langhorne 
Wister, assumes command of the brigade. Our regiment, facing 
westward, while the line on our right faces to the north, is observed to 
be exposed to an enfilading fire from the enemy's guns, as well as from 
the long line of gray now appearing in full sight on our right. So our 
regiment must form in line and " change front forward," in order to 
come in line with the other regiments. Accomplished swiftly, this 
new movement brings our line at once face to face with the enemy's, 
which advances to within fifty yards, and exchanges a few volleys, but 
is soon checked and staggered by our fire. 

Yet now, see ! Away to our left, and consequently on our flank, 
a new line appears, rapidly advancing out of the woods a half mile 
away, and there must be some quick and sharp work done now, boys, 



THE FIRST DAY AT GETTYSBURG. 117 

or, between the old foes in front and the new ones on our flank, we 
shall be annihilated. To clear us of these old assailants in front before 
the new line can sweep down on our flank, our brave colonel, in 
a ringing command, orders a charge along the whole line. Then, 
before the gleaming and bristling bayonets of our "Bucktail" Brigade 
as it yells and cheers, sweeping resistlessly over the field, the enemy 
gives way, and flies in confusion. But there is little time to watch 
them fly, for that new line on our left is approaching at a rapid pace ; 
and, with shells falling thick and fast into our ranks, and men drop- 
ping everywhere, our regiment must reverse the former movement by 
" changing front to rear," and so resume its original position, facing 
westward ; for the enemy's new line is approaching from that direc- 
tion, and if it takes us in flank we are done for. 

To " change front to rear " is a diflicult movement to execute even 
on drill, much more so under severe fire ; but it is executed now, 
steadily and without confusion, yet not a minute too soon ! For the 
new line of gray is upon us in a mad tempest of lead, supported by a 
cruel artillery fire, almost before our line can steady itself to receive 
the shock. However, partially protected by a post-and-rail fence, we 
answer fiercely, and with effect so terrific, that the enemy's line 
wavers, and at length moves off by the right flank, giving us a 
breathing space for a time. 

During this struggle, there had been many an exciting scene all 
along the line, as it swayed backward and forward over the field, — 
scenes which we have had no time to mention yet. 

See yonder, where the colors of the regiment on our right — our 
sister regiment, the 149th — have been advanced a little, to draw the 
enemy's fire, while our line sweeps on to the charge. There ensues 
about the flags a wild melSe and close hand-to-hand encounter. Some 
of the enemy have seized the colors and are making off with them in 
triumph, shouting victory. But a squad of our own regiment dashes 



118 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

out swiftly, led to the rescue of the stolen colors by Sergeant John C. 
Kensill, of Company F, who falls to the ground before reaching them, 
and amid yells and cheers and smoke you see the battle flags rise and 
fall, and sway hither and thither upon the surging mass, as if tossed 
on the billows of a tempest, until, wrenched away by strong arms, they 
are borne back in triumph to the line of the 149th. 

See yonder, again I Our colonel is clapping his hand to his cheek, 
from which a red stream is pouring; our lieutenant-colonel, Henry S. 
Huidekoper, is kneeling on the ground, and is having his handkerchief 
tied tight around his arm at the shoulder ; Major Thomas Chamberlain 
and Adjutant Richard L. Ashurst both lie low, pierced with balls 
through the chest ; one lieutenant is waving his sword to his men, 
although his leg is crushed at the knee ; three other officers of the line 
are lying over there, motionless now forever. All over the field are 
strewn men, wounded or dead, and comrades pause a moment in the 
mad rush to catch the last words of the dying. Incidents such as 
these the reader must imagine for himself, to fill in these swift sketches 
of how the day was won — and lost ! 

Ay, lost ! For the balls which have so far come mainly from our 
front, begin now to sing in from our left and right, which means that 
we are being flanked. Somehow, away off to our right, a half mile or 
so, our line has given way, and is already on retreat through the 
town, while our left is being driven in, and we ourselves may shortly 
be surrounded and crushed — and so the retreat is sounded. 

Back now along the railroad cut we go, or through the orchard and 
the narrow strip of woods behind it, with our dead scattered around 
on all sides, and the wounded crying piteously for help. 

" Harry ! Harry ! " It is a faint cry of a dying man yonder in the 
grass, and I must see who it is. 

"Why, Willie ! Tell me where you are hurt," I ask, kneeling down 
beside him ; and I see the words come hard, for he is fast dying. 



THE FIRST DAY AT GETTYSBURG. 119 

" Here in my side, Harry. Tell — mother — mother " — 

Poor fellow, he can say no more. His head falls back, and Willie 
is at rest forever ! 

On, now, through that strip of woods, at the other edge of which, 
with my back against a stout oak, I stop and look at a beautiful and 
thrilling sight. Some reserves are being brought up ; infantry in the 
centre, the colors flying and officers shouting ; cavalry on the right, 
with sabres flashing and horses on a trot ; artillery on the left, with 
guns at full gallop sweeping into position to check the headlong pur- 
gQJt, — it is a grand sight, and a fine rally ; but a vain one, for in an 
hour we are swept off the field, and are in full retreat through the 
town. 

Up through the streets hurries the remnant of our shattered corps, 
while the enemy is pouring into the town only a few squares away 
from us. There is a tempest of shrieking shells and whistling balls 
about our ears. The guns of that battery by the woods we have 
dragged along, all the horses being disabled. The artillery men load 
as we go, double-charging with grape and canister. 

" Make way there, men ! " is the cry, and the surging mass crowds 
close up on the sidewalks to right and left, leaving a long lane down 
the centre of the street, through which the grape and canister go rat- 
tling into the ranks of the enemy's advance guard. 

And so, amid scenes which I have neither space nor power to 
describe, we gain Cemetery Ridge towards sunset, and throw ourselves 
down by the road in a tumult of excitement and grief, having lost the 
day through the overwhelming force of numbers, and yet somehow 
having gained it too, although as yet we know it not, for the sacrifice 
of our corps has saved the position for the rest of the army, which has 
been marching all day, and which comes pouring in over Cemetery 
Ridge all night long. 

Ay, the position is saved ; but where is our corps ? Well may our 



120 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

division general, Doubleday, who early in the day succeeded to the 
command, when our bi*ave Rejaiolds had fallen, shed tears of grief as 
he sits there on his horse and looks over the shattered remains of that 
First Army Corps, for there is but a handful of it left. Of the five 
hundred and fifty men that marched under our regimental colors in 
the morning, but one hundred remain. All our field and staff officers 
are gone. Of some twenty captains and lieutenants, but one is left 
without a scratch, while of my own company only thirteen out of fifty- 
four sleep that night on Cemeoery Ridge, under the open canopy of 
heaven. There is no roll call, for Sergeant Weidensaul will call the 
roll no more ; nor will Joe Gutelius, nor Joe Ruhl, nor McFadden, 
nor Henning, nor many others of our comrades whom we miss, ever 
answer to their names again until the world's last great reveille. 



CHAPTER XL 

AFTER THE BATTLE. 

I HAD frequently seen pictures of battlefields, and had often read 
about them ; but the most terrible scenes of carnage my boyish imagi- 
nation had ever figured fell far short of the dreadful reality as I beheld 
it after the great battle of the war. It was the evening of Sunday, 
July 5, 1863, when, at the suggestion of Andy, we took our way 
across the breastworks, stone fences, and redoubts, to look over the 
battlefield. Our shattered brigade had been mainly on reserve during 
the last three days ; and as we made our way through the troops lying 
in our front, and over the defences of stone and earth and ragged 
rocks, the scene among our troops was one for the pencil of a great 
artist. 

Scattered about irregularly were groups of men discussing the 
battle and its results, or relating exciting incidents and adventures of 
the fray : here, one fellow pointing out bullet holes in his coat or cap, 
or a great rent in the sleeve of his blouse made by a flying piece of 
shell ; there, a man laughing as he held up his crushed canteen, or 
showed his tobacco-box with a hole in the lid and a bullet among his 
"fine cut"; yonder, knots of men frying steaks and cooking coffee 
about the fire, or making ready for sleep. 

Before we pass beyond our own front line, evidences of the terrible 
carnage of the battle enviroil us on all sides. Fresh, hastily dug 
graves are there, with rude head boards telling the poor fellows' names 
and regiments; yonder, a tree on whose smooth bark the names of 
three Confederate generals, who fell here in the gallant charge, have 

121 



122 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

been carved by some thouglitful hand. The trees round about are 
chipped by the balls and stripped almost bare by the leaden hail, while 
a log house near by in the clearing has been so riddled with shot and 
shell that scarcely a whole shingle is left to its roof. 

But sights still more fearful await us as we step out beyond the 
front line, pick our way carefully among the great rocks, and walk 
down the slope to the scene of the fearful charge. The ground has 
been soaked with the recent rains, and the heavy mist which hangs 
like a pall over the field, together with the growing darkness, render 
objects but indistinctly visible, and all the more ghastly. As the eye 
ranges over so much of the field as the shrouding mist allows us to 
see, we behold a scene of destruction terrible indeed, if ever there was 
one in all this wide world ! Dismounted gun carriages, shattered 
caissons, knapsacks, haversacks, muskets, bayonets, accoutrements, 
scattered over the field in wildest confusion, — horses, poor creatures! 
dead and dying, — and, worst and most awful of all, dead men by the 
hundreds ! Most of the men in blue have been buried already, and 
the pioneers yonder in the mist are busy digging trenches for the poor 
fellows in gray. 

As we pass along, we stop to observe how thickly the}^ lie, here 
and there, like grain before the scythe in summer time, — how firmly 
some have grasped their guns, with high, defiant looks, — and how 
calm are the countenances of others in their last solemn sleep; while 
more than one has clutched in his stiffened fingers a piece of white 
paper, which he waved, poor soul, in his death agony, as a plea for 
quarter, when the great wave of battle had receded and left him there, 
mortally wounded, on the field. 

I sicken of the dreadful scene, can endure it no longer, and beg 
Andy to " Come away ! Come away ! It's too awful to look at any 
more ! " 

And so we get back to our place in the breastworks with sad, 



AFTER THE BATTLE. 123 

heavy liearts, and wonder how we ever could have imagined war so 
grand and gallant a thing when, after all, it is so horridly wicked and 
cruel. We lie down — the thirteen of us that are left in the company 
— on a big flat rock, sleeping without shelter, and shielding our faces 
from the drizzling rain with our caps, as best we may, thinking of 
the dreadful scene in front there, and of the sad, heav}' hearts there 
will be all over the land for weary years, till kindly sleep comes to us, 
with sweet forgetfulness of all. 

Our clothes were damp with the heavy mists and drizzling rain 
when we awoke next morrung, and hastily prepared for the march olj 
the field, and the long pursuit of the foe through the waving grain 
fields of Maryland. Having cooked our coffee in our blackened tin 
cups, and roasted our slices of fresh beef, stuck on the end of a ram- 
rod and thrust into the crackling fires, we were ready in a moment for 
the march, for we had but little to pack up. 

Straight over the field we go, through that valley of death where 
the heavy charging had been done, and thousands of men had been 
swept away, line after line, in the mad and furious tempest of the 
battle. Heavy mists still overhang the field, even dumb Nature 
seeming to be in sympathy with the scene, while all around us, as we 
march along, are sights at which ^he most callous turn faint. Inter- 
esting enough we find the evidences of conflict, save only where 
human life is concerned. 

We stop to wonder at the immense furrow yonder, which some 
shell has ploughed up in the ground ; we call one another's attention 
to a caisson shivered to atoms by an explosion, or to a tree cut clean 
off by a solid shot, or bored through and through by a shell. With 
pity we contemplate the poor artillery horses hobbling, wounded and 
mangled, about the field, and we think it a mercy to shoot them as we 
pass. But the dead men ! Hundreds of torn and distorted bodies yet 
on the field, although thousands already lie buried in the trenches. 



124 RECOLLECTIONS OF A BBVMMER BOY. 

Even the roughest and rudest among us marches awed and silent, as 
he is forced to think of the terrible suffering endured in this place, and 
of the sorrow and tears there will be among the mountains of the 
North and the rice fields of the far-off South. 

We were quiet, I remember, very quiet, as we marched off that 
great field ; and not only then, but for days afterwards, as we tramped 
through the pleasant fields of Maryland. We had little to say, and we 
all were pretty busily thinking. Where were the boys who, but 
a week before, had marched wi^h us through those same fragrant fields, 
blithe as a sunshiny morn in May ? And so, as I have told you, when 
those young ladies and gentlemen came out to the end .of that 
Maryland village to meet and cheer us after the battle, as they had 
met and cheered us before it, we did not know how heavy-hearted we 
were until, in response to their song of "Rally round the Flag, 
Boys ! " some one proposed three cheers for them. But the cheers 
would not come. Somehow, after the first hurrah, the other two 
stuck in our throats or died away soundless on the air. And so we 
only said, " God bless you, young friends ; but we can't cheer to-day, 
you see ! " 



sN,^ 




CHAPTER XII. 

THROUGH "MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND." 

Our course now lay through Maryland, and we performed endless 
marches and countermarches over turnpikes and through field and 
forest. 

After crossing South Mountain, — but stop, I just must tell you 
about that, it will take but a paragraph or two. South Mountain Pass 
we entered one July evening, after a drenching rain, on the Middle- 
town side, and marched along through that deep mountain gorge, with 
a high cliff on either side, and a delightful stream of fresh water 
flowing along the road ; emerging on the other side at the close of day. 
Breaking off the line of march by the right flank, we suddenly 
crossed the stream, and were ordered up the mountain side in the 
gathering darkness. We climbed very slowly at first, and more 
slowly still as the darkness deepened and the path grew steeper and 
more difficult. At about nine o'clock, orders were given to "sleep on 
arms," and then, from sheer fatigue, we all fell sound asleep, some 
lying on the rocks, some sitting bolt upright against the trees, some 
stretched out at full length on beds of moss or clumps of bushes. 

What a magnificent sight awaited us the next morning ! Opening 
our eyes at peep o' day, we found ourselves high up on top of a moun- 
tain bluff, overlooking the lovely valley about Boonesboro. The rains 
were past ; the sun was just beginning to break through the clouds ; 
great billows of mist were rolling up from the hollows below, where 
we could catch occasional glimpses of the movements of troops, — 
cavalry dashing about in squads, and infantry marching in solid 

125 



126 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

columns. What may have been the object of sending us up that 
mountain, or what the intention in ordering us to fell the trees from 
the mouutain-top, and build breastworks hundreds of feet above the 
valley, I have never learned. That one morning amid the mists of the 
mountain, and that one grand view of the lovely valley beneath, were 
to my miiid sufficient reason for being there. 

Refreshed by a day's rest on the mountain-top, we march down 
into the valley on the tenth, exhilarated by the sweet, fresh mountain 
air, as well as by the prospect, as we suppose, of a speedy end being 
put to this cruel war. For we know that the enemy is somewhere 
crossing the swollen Potomac back into Virginia, in a crippled condi- 
tion, and we are sure he will be finally crushed in the next great 
battle, which cannot now be many hours distant. And so Ave march 
leisurely along, over turnpikes and through grain fields, on the edge of 
one of which, by and by, we halt in line of battle, stack arms, and, 
with three cheers, rush in a line for a stake-and-rider fence, with the 
rails of which we are to build breastworks. It is wonderful how rap- 
idly that Maryland farmer's fence disappears ! Each man seizing a 
rail, the fence literally walks off, and in less than fifteen minutes 
it reappears in the shape of a compact and well-built line of 
breastworks. 

But scarcely is the work completed when we are ordered into the 
road again, and up this we advance a half-mile or so, and form in line 
on the left of the road and on the skirt of another wheat field. We 
are about to stack arms and build a second line of works, when, — 

Z-i-p ! z-i-p ! z-i-p ! 

Ah ! It is music we know right well by this time ! Three light 
puffs of smoke rise yonder in the wheat field, a hundred yards or so 
away, where the enemy's pickets are lying concealed in the tall grain. 
Three balls go singing merrily over my head — intended, no doubt, for 
the lieutenant, who is acting-adjutant, and who rides immediately in 



THROUGH ^^ MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND:' 127 

front of me, with a bandage over his forehead, but who is too busy 
forming the line to give much heed to his danger. 

"We'll take you out o' that grass a-hopping, you long-legged 
rascals ! " shouts Pointer, as the command is given, — 

" Deploy to right and left as skirmishers," — while a battery of 
artillery is brought up at a gallop, and the guns are trained on a cer- 
tain red barn away across tlie field, from which the enemy's sharp- 
shooters are picking off our men. 

Bang ! Hur-r-r ! Boom ! One, two, three, four shells go crashing 
through tlie red barn, while the shingles and boards fly like feathers, 
and the sharpshooters pour out from it in wild haste. The pickets are 
popping away at one another out there along the field, and in the edge 
of the wood beyond ; the enemy is driven in and retreats, but we do 
not advance, and the expected battle does not come off, after all, as we 
had hoped it would. For in the great war-council held about that 
time, as we afterwards learned, our generals, by a close vote, have 
decided not to risk a general engagement, but to let the enemy get 
back into Virginia again, crippled, indeed, but not crushed, as every 
man in the ranks believes he well might be. 

As we step on the swaying pontoons to recross the Potomac into 
old Virginia, there are murmurs of disappointment all along the line. 

"Why didn't they let us fight? We could have thrashed them 
now, if ever we could. We are tired of this everlasting marching and 
countermarching up and down, and we want to fight it out and be 
done with it." 

But for all our feelings and wishes we are back again on the south 
side of the river, and the column of blue soon is marching along gayly 
enough among the hills and pleasant fields about Waterford. 

We did not go very fast nor very far those hot July days, because 
we had very little to eat. Somehow or other our provision trains had 
lost their reckoning, and in consequence we were left to subsist as 



128 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

best we could, We were a worn, haggard-looking, hungry, ragged set 
of men. As for me — out at knee and elbow, my hair sticking out in 
tufts through holes in the top of my hat, ray shoes in shreds, and my 
haversack empty — I must have presented a forlorn appearance indeed. 
Fortunately, however, blackberries were ripe and plentiful. All along 
the road, and all through the fields, as we approached Warrenton, 
these delicious berries hung on the vines in great luscious clusters. 
Yet blackberries for supper and blackberries for breakfast give a man 
but little strength for marching, under a July sun, all day long. So 
Corporal Harter and I thought, as we sat one morning in a clover 
field, where we were resting for the day, busy, boiling a chicken at our 
camp-fire. 

"Where did you get that chicken, corporal?" said I. 

" Well, you see, Harry, I didn't steal her, and I didn't buy her, 
neither. Late last night, while we were crossing that creek, I heard 
some fellow say he had carried that old chicken all day since morning, 
and she was getting too heavy for him, and he was going to throw her 
into the creek ; and so I said I'd take her, and I did, and carried her 
all night, and here she is now in the pan, sizzling away, Harry." 

" I'm afraid, corporal, this is a fowl trick." 

"Fair or fowl, we'll have a good dinner, any way." 

With an appetite ever growing keener as we caught savory whiffs 
from the steaming mess-pan, we piled up the rails on the fire and 
boiled the biddy, and boiled, and boiled, and boiled her from morn till 
noon, and from noon till night, and couldn't eat her then, she was so 
tough ! 

" May the dogs take the old grizzle-gizzard ! I'm not going to 
break my teeth on this old buzzard any more," shouted the corporal, 
as he flung the whole cartilaginous mass into a pile of brush uear by. 
" It was a fowl trick, after all, Harry, wasn't it ? " 

Tlius it chanced that, when we marched out of Warrenton early 



THROUGH "3IABYLAND, MY MARYLAND:' 129 

one sultry summer morning, we started with empty stomachs and 
haversacks, and marched on till noon with nothing to eat. Halting 
then in a wood, we threw ourselves under the trees, utterly exhausted. 
About three o'clock, as we lay there, a whole staff of officers came 
riding down the line — the quartermaster-general of the Army of the 
Potomac and staff, they said it was. Just the very man we wanted to 
see ! Then broke forth such a yell from hundreds of famished men as 
the quartermaster-general had probably never heard before nor ever ■ 
wished to hear again, — 

« Hard-tack ! " 

" CofPee ! " 

"Pork!" 

"Beef!" 

" Sugar ! " 

« Salt ! " 

" Pepper ! " 

" Hard-tack ! Hard-tack ! " 

The quartermaster and staff put their spurs to their horses and 
dashed away in a cloud of dust, and at last, about nightfall, we got 
something to eat. 

By the way, this reminds me of an incident that occurred on one 
of our long marches ; and I tell it just to show what sometimes is the 
effect of short rations. 

It was while we were lying up at Chancellorsville in an immense 
forest that our supply of pork and hard-tack began to give out. We 
had, indeed, carried with us into the woods eight full days' rations in 
our knapsacks and haversacks; but it rained in torrents for several 
days, so that our hard-tack became mouldy, the roads were impassable, 
transportation was out of the question, and we were forced to put our- 
selves on short allowance. 

"I wish I had sOme meat, Harry," said Pete Grove, anxiously 



130 



RECOLLECTIONS OF A Z'EUJIJIEB BOY. 



inspecting tlie contents of liis haversack; "I'm awful hungry for 

meat. 

" Well, Pete," said I, " I saw some jumping around here pretty 
/'ively a while ago. Maybe, you could catch it." 

" 3Ieat jumping around here ? Why what do you mean ? " 

" Why frogs, to be sure 
— frogs, Pete. Did you 
never eat frogs ? " 

" Bah ! I think I'd be a 
creat deal hungrier than I 
am now, ever to eat a frog ! 
Ugh ! No, indeed ! But 
where is he? I'd like the 
fun of hunting him, any- 
how." 

So saying, he loaded his 
revolver, and we sallied forth 
along the stream, and Pete, 
who was a good marksman, 
in a short time had laid out 
Mr. Froggy at the first shot. 
" Now, Pete, we'll skin 
him, and you shall have a 
feast fit for a king." 

"I've got him, boys. " 

So, putting the meat into 
a tin cup with a little water, salt, and pepper, boiling it for a few 
minutes, and breaking some hard-tack into it when done, I set it 
before him. I need hardly say that when he had once tasted the 
dish he speedily devoured it, and when he had devoured it, he 
took his revolver in hand again, and hunted frogs for the rest of that 
afternoon. 




THB O UGH " MAR YLAND, MY MAR YLAND. " 131 

Drum and fife have more to do with the discipline of an army than 
an inexperienced person woukl imagine. The drum is the tongue of 
the camp. It wakes the men in the morning, mounts the guard, 
announces the dinner hour, gives a peculiar charm to dress parade in 
the evening, and calls the men to quarters with its pleasant tattoo at 
night. For months, however, we had had no drums. Ours had been 
lost, with our knapsacks, at Gettysburg. [And I will here pause to 
say that if any good friend across the border has in his possession a 
snare-drum with the name and regiment of the writer clearly marked 
on the inside of the body, and will return the same to the owner 
thereof, he will confer no small favor, and will be overwhelmed with 
an ocean of thanks !] 

We did not know how really important a thing a drum is until, one 
late September day, we were ordered to prepare for a dress-parade — a 
species of regimental luxury in which we had not indulged since the 
early days of June. 

"• Major, you don't expect us drummer boys to turn out, do 
you?" 

" Certainly. And why not, my boy? " 

" Why, we have no drums, major I " 

" Well, your fifers have fifes, haven't they ? We'll do without the 
drums ; but you must all turn out, and the fifers can play." 

So when we stood drawn up in line on the parade-ground among 
the woods, and the order was given, — 

" Parade rest ! Troop, beat off ! " 

Out we drummers and fifers wheeled from the head of the line, 
with three shrill fifes screaming out the rolls, and started at a slow 
march down the line, while every man in the ranks grinned, and we 
drummer boys laughed, and the officers joined us, until at last the 
whole line, officers and men alike, broke out into loud haw-haws at the 
sight. The fifers couldn't whistle for laughing, and the major ordered 



132 BECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

us all back to our places when only half down the line, and never 
even attempted another parade until a full supply of brand new drums 
arrived for us from Washington. 

Then the major picked out mine for me, I remember, and it proved 
to be the best in the lot. 

Speaking of drums and drumming, I am reminded of an amusing 
incident said to have occurred in one of our regiments — let it be 
understood it was not in ours. On a march through a certain town, 
the drum corps had struck up some lively music, when the colonel 
noticed that one drummer boy was not beating his drum. " Adjutant," 
said he, " one of the drummers is not beating. Go, find the reason 
why." Riding up to the musicians the adjutant, with a black military 
frown on his face, shouted to the boy, " The colonel wants to know 
why you are not beating your drum ? " " Tell the colonel," said the 
culprit, in a whisper loud enough to be enjoyed some distance down 
the line. " Tell the colonel that I can't beat my drum now. I have 
two live turkeys in my drum — and one of them is for the colonel ! " 



Some brief mention of the town of Waterford having been made 
in the foregoing chapter, it may be well to say just a little more about 
it. After the contents of this book had first appeared in the columns 
of St. Nicholas, I received a characteristic letter from a boy which it may 
interest the reader to see. During the time which elapsed between 
the first and second editions of these "Recollections," I received a 
great number of letters from soldiers, and their children, both Federal 
and Confederate, from many of the states in the Union, and became, 
besides, a kind of rallying point, or bureau of information, for the 
scattered members of my regiment. But of all the letters received, 
none will prove more interesting and enjoyable to the reader than the 
following, — 



THROUGH ''MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND:' 133 

2d Mo. 15", 1882. 

To THE Editor of the St. Nicholas^ — I have been much inter- 
ested in reading " The Recollections of a Drummer Boy." In your 
last number he gives a sketch of the battle of Gettysburg, and in their 
return to Virginia he speaks of a town in the northern part of Vir- 
ginia, by the name of Waterford. On seeing the name of that town, I 
called my mother's attention to it. She was very glad to see it men- 
tioned, but was sorry that there was not more said about it. Mamma 
was born there, and lived there all through the war ; and it was the 
greatest'Union town in the South. Mamma says nobody loved the 
Union soldiers better than the people of Waterford. I should think 
she did, for she married one of them. Papa was a soldier in the army 
all through the war. He was at the battle of Gettysburg, too, but 
came through without a scratch, except the rheumatism which he got 
in prison and has had ever since.' He was under the command of Gen- 
eral Kilpatrick. But I must come to the object of my letter, and that 
is, whether in passing through Waterford he saw any girls handing 
out refreshments to the soldiers ? Mamma was one of them. Please 
forward this to the Drummer Boy. J. W. H. 

N. Y. City. 

To these inquiries a prompt reply was sent, relating some things 
about Waterford and our experiences in that region not contained in 
this book, and stating also that as for the young ladies " handing out 
refreshments to the soldiers," I had not seen them : that it was some- 
how our regimental misfortune always to be either too early or too 
late when such pleasant things came off : and that on this particular 
occasion we were probably too early, inasmuch as my regiment was at 
the head of the column when our command entered Waterford, and, I 
presume, the lemonade was not ready at that time. However, for his 
satisfaction, it was furthermore stated that, as we entered Waterford, 



134 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

our drum corps being on the lead, a young lady who had been sitting 
on a porch in front of a house came down on the street and asked me 
" whether a certain New York regiment was with us," and that I had 
not the slightest doubt that that girl must have been his mamma, as 
she was a very beautiful girl indeed. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



PAINS AND PENALTIES. 




MONG all civilized nations the "rules of war" seem 
to have been written with an iron hand. The laws 
by which the soldier in the field is governed are of 
necessity inexorable, for strict discipline is the chief 
'excellence of an army, and a ready obedience the 
chief virtue of the soldier. Nothing can be 
more admirable in the character of the true 
soldier than his prompt and unquestioning 
response to the trumpet-call of duty. The world can never forget, 
nor ever sufficiently admire, a Leonidas, with his three hundred Spar- 
tans, at Thermopylae, the Roman soldier on guard at the gates of the 
perishing Pompeii, or the gallant six hundred charging into the 
" valley of death " at Balaklava. Disobedience to orders is the great 
sin of the soldier, and one that is sure to be punished, for at no other 
time does Justice wear so stern and severe a look as when she sits 
enthroned amidst the camps of armed men. 

In different sections of the army, various expedients were resorted 
to for the purpose of correcting minor offences. What particular 
shape the punishment should assume depended very much upon the 
inventive faculty of the Field and Staff, or of such officers of the line 
as might have charge of the case. 

Before taking the field, a few citizen sneak thieves were discovered 
prowling amongst the tents. These were promptly drummed out of 
camp to the tune of the " Rogue's March," the whole regiment shout- 

135 



136 



EECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 



iug in derision as the miserable fellows took to their heels when the 
procession reached the limits of the camp, where they were told to 
begone, and never show their faces in camp any more, on pain 
of a more severe treatment. 

If, as very seldom happened, it was an enlisted man who was 
caught stealing, he was often punished in the following way: A 




DRUMMING SNEAK-THIEVES OUT OP CAMP. 



barrel, having one end knocked out and a hole in the other large 
enough to allow one's head to go through, was slipped over the 
culprit's shoulders. On the outside of the barrel the word THIEF ! 
was printed in large letters. In this dress he presented the ludicrous 
appearance of an animated meal barrel ; for you could see nothing of 
him but his head and legs, his hands being very significantly confined. 
Sometimes he was obliged to stand or sit (as best he could) about the 



PAINS AND PENALTIES. 137 

guardhouse, or near by the coloners quarters, all day long. At other 
times he was compelled to march through the company streets and 
make the tour of the camp under guard. 

Once m the field, however, sneak thieves soon disappeared. Nor 
was there frequent occasion to punish the men for any other offences. 
Nearly, if not quite all of the punishments inflicted in the field were 
for disobedience in some form or other. Not that the men were wil- 
fully disobedient. Far from it. They knew very well that they must 
obey, and that the value of their services was measured wholly by the 
quality of their obedience. It very rarely happened, even amid the 
greatest fatigue after a hard day's march, or in the face of the most im- 
minent danger, that any one refused his duty. But after a long and 
severe march, a man is so completely exhausted that he is likely 
to become irritable, and to manifest a temper quite foreign to his 
usual habit. He is then not himself, and may in such circumstances 
do what at other times he would not think of doing. 

Thus it once happened in my own company that one of the boys 
took it into his head to kick over the traces. We had had a long, hot 
day's march through Mar^dand, on the way down from Gettysburg, and 
were quite worn out. About midnight we halted in a clover field on 
a hillside, for rest and sleep. Corporal Harter, who was the only officer, 
commissioned or non-commissioned, that we had left to us after Get- 
tysburg, called out, — 

" John D , report to the adjutant for camp guard." 

Now John, who was a German by the way, did not like the 
prospect of losing his sleep, and had to be summoned a second time 
before replying. 

" Corporal, ich thu's es net ! " (Corporal, I won't do it.) 
Tired though we all were, we could not help laughing at the 
preposterous idea of a man daring to disobey the corporal. As the 
boys jerked off their accoutrements and began to spread down their 



138 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

gum blankets on the fragrant clover, wet with the dew, they were 
greatly amused at this singular passage between John and the corporal. 

"Come on, John. Don't make a Dutch dunce of yourself. You 
know you must go." 

" Ich hab' dir g'sawt, ich thu's es net," (I have told you I won't do 
it,) insisted John. 

" Pitch in, John ! " shouted some one from his bed in the clover. 
*' Give it to him in Dutch ; that'll fetch him." 

" Oh, hang it ! " said the corporal. " Come on, man. What 
do you mean ? You know you've got to go." 

"Ich hab' dir zwei mohl g'sawt, ich thu's es gar net." (I have told 
you twice that I will certainly not do it.) 

" Ha ! ha ! It beats the Dutch ! " said some one. 

" Something rotten in Denmark ! " exclaimed another. 

" Put him in the guard-house ! " suggested a third, from under his 
gum blanket. 

" Plague take the thing ! " said the corporal, perplexed. " Pointer," 
continued he, "put on your accoutrements again, get j^our gun, and 
take John, under arrest, to the adjutant." 

" Come on, John," said Pointer, buckling on his belt, " and be 
mighty quick about it, too. I don't w^ant to stand about here arguing 
all night ; I want to get to roost. Come along ! " 

The men leaned up on their elbows, in their beds on the clover, 
interested in knowing how John would take that. 

" Well," said he, scratching his head, and taking his gun in hand, 
" Corporal, ich glaub' ich det besser geh." (Corporal, I guess 
I'd better go.) 

" Yes," said Pointer, with a drawl, " I guess you ' besser ' had, or 
the major '11 make short work with you and your Dutch. What in the 
name of General Jackson did you come to the army for, if you ain't 
agoing to obey orders ? " 



PAINS AND PENALTIES. 139 

If while we were lying in camp a man refused his duty, he was at 
once haled to the guard-house, which is the military name for lockup. 
Once there, at the discretion of the officers, he was either simply con- 
fined, and put on bread and water, or maybe ordered to carry a log of 
wood, or a knapsack filled with stones, " two hours on and two off," 
day and niglit, until such time as he was deemed to have done suffi- 
cient penance. In more extreme cases a court-martial was held, and 
the penalty of forfeiture of all pay due, with hard labor for thirty 
days, or the like, was inflicted. 

" Tying up by the thumb," was sometimes adopted. Down in front 
of Petersburg, out along the Weldon railroad, I once saw thirteen 
colored soldiers tied up by their thumbs at a time. Between two pine 
saplings a long pole had been thrown across and fastened at either 
end about seven feet from the ground. To this pole thirteen ropes 
had been attached at regular intervals, and to each rope a darkey was 
tied by the thumb in such a way that he could just touch the ground 
with his heel and keep the rope taut. If any one will try the experi- 
ment of holding up his arm in such a position for only five minutes, he 
will appreciate the force of the punishment of being tied up by the 
thumbs for a half day. 

In some regiments they had a high wooden horse, which the 
offender was made to mount ; and there he was kept for hours in a 
seat as conspicuous as it was uncomfortable. 

One day, down in front of Petersburg, a number of us had been 
making a friendly call on some acquaintances over in another regi- 
ment. As we were returning home, we came across what we took to 
be a well, and wishing a drink we all stopped. The well in question, 
as was usual there, was nothing but a barrel sunk in the ground ; for 
at some places the ground was so full of springs that, in order to get 
water, all you had to do was to sink a box or barrel, and the water 
would collect of its own accord. Stooping down and looking into the 



140 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

well in question, Andy discovered a man standing in the well and bal- 
ing out the water. 

" What's he doing down there in that hole ? " asked some one of 
our company. 

" He says he's in the gopher-hole," said Andy, with a grin. 

" Gopher-hole ! What's a gopher-hole ? " 

" Why," said the guard, who was standing near by, and whom we 
had taken for the customary guard on the spring, " you see, comrades, 
our colonel has his own way of punishin' the boys. One thing he 
won't let 'em do — he won't let 'em get drunk. They may drink as 
much as they want, but they must not get drunk. If they do, they go 
into the gopher-hole. Jim, there, is in the gopher-hole now. That 
hole has a spring in the bottom, and the water comes in pretty fast ; 
and if Jim wants to keep dry he's got to keep dippin' all the time, or 
else stand in the water up to his neck — and Jim isn't so mighty fond 
o' water neither." 

Late in the fall of 1863, while we were lying in camp somewhere 
among the pine woods along the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, we 
were one day marched out to witness the execution of a deserter. 
Instances of desertion to the enemy's lines were extremely rare with 
us ; but whenever they occurred, the unfortunate offenders, if caught, 
were dealt with in the most summary manner, for the doom of the 
deserter is death. 

The poor fellow who was to suffer the highest penalty of military 
law on the present occasion was, we were informed, a Maryland boy. 
Some months previously he had deserted his regiment for some cause 
or other, and had gone over to the enemy. Unfortunately for him, it 
happened that in one of the numerous skirmishes we were engaged in 
about that time, he was taken prisoner, in company with a number of 
Confederate soldiers. Unfortunately, also, for the poor fellow, it 
chanced that he was captured by the very company from which he had 



PAINS AND PENALTIES. 141 

deserted. The disguise of a Confederate nniform, wliicli might have 
stood him in good stead had he fallen into any other hands, was now 
of no avail. He was at once recognized by his former comrades in 
arms, tried by court-martial, found guilty, and sentenced to be shot. 

So, one October morning, orders came to the effect that the whole 
division was to turn out at one o'clock, to witness the execution of the 
sentence. I need hardly say that this was most unwelcome news. 
Nobody wished to see so sad a sight. Some of the men begged to be 
excused from attendance, and others could not be found when our 
drums beat the " assembly " ; for none could well endure, as they said, 
" to see a man shot down like a dog." It was one thing to shoot a 
fellow mortal, or to see him shot, in battle ; but this was quite a dif- 
ferent thing. A squad of men had been detailed to shoot the poor 
fellow, Elias Foust, of our company, being among the number. But 
Elias, to his credit be it recorded, begged off, and had some one else 
appointed in his stead. One could not help but pity the men who 
were assigned to this most unpleasant duty, for if it be painful only to 
see a man shot, what must it not be to shoot him with your own hand? 
However, in condescension to this altogether natural and humane 
aversion to the shedding of blood, and in order to render the task as 
endurable as possible, the customary practice was observed : — On the 
morning of the execution an officer, who had been appointed for the 
purpose, took a number of rifles, some twelve or fourteen in number, 
and loaded all of them carefully with powder and ball, except one, this 
one being loaded with blank cartridge, that is, with powder only. He 
then mixed the guns so thoroughly that he himself could scarcely tell 
which guns were loaded with ball and which one was not. Another 
officer then distributed the guns to the men, not one of whom could 
be at all certain whetlier his particular gun contained a ball or not, 
and all of whom could avail themselves of the full benefit of the doubt 
in the case. 



142 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

It was one of those peculiarly impressive autumn clays when all 
that one sees or hears conspires to fill the mind with an indefinable 
feeling of sadness. There was the chirp of the cricket in the air, and 
the far-away chorus of the myriads of insects complaining that the year 
was done. There was all the impressiveness of a dull sky, a dreamy 
haze over the field, a yellow and brown tinge on the forest, accom- 
panied by that peculiarly mournful wail of the breeze as it sighed and 
moaned dolefully among the branches of the pines," — all joining in 
chanting a requiem, it seemed to me, for the poor Maryland boy whose 
sands were fast running out. 

At the appointed hour the division marched out and took position 
in a large field, or clearing, surrounded on all sides by pine woods. 
We were drawn up so as to occupy three sides of a great hollow 
square, two ranks deep and facing inward, the fourth side of the 
square, where we could see that a grave had been recently dug, being 
left open for the execution. Scarcely were we well in position, when 
there came to our ears, wafted by the sighing autumn wind, the 
mournful notes of the " Dead March." Looking away in the direction 
whence the music came, we could see a long procession marching sadly 
and slowly to the measured stroke of the mufQed drum. First came 
the band, playing the dirge ; next, the squad of executioners ; then a 
pine coffin, carried by four men ; then the prisoner himself, dressed in 
black trousers and white shirt, and marching in the midst of four 
guards ; then a number of men under arrest for various offences, who 
had been brought out for the sake of the moral effect it was hoped this 
spectacle might have upon them. Last of all came a strong guard. 

When the procession had come up to the place where the division 
was formed, and had reached the open side of the hollow square, it 
wheeled to the left and marched all along the inside of the line, from 
the right to the left, the band still playing the dirge. The line was 
long, and the step was slow, and it seemed that they never would get 



PAINS AND PENALTIES. 143 

to the other end. But at long last, after having solemnly traversed the 
entire length of the three sides of the hollow square, the procession 
came to the open side of it, opposite to the point from which it had 
started. • The escort wheeled off. The prisoner was placed before his 
coffin, which was set down in front of his grave. The squad of twelve 
or fourteen men who were to shoot the unfortunate man took position 
some ten or twelve yards from the grave, facing the prisoner, and a 
chaplain stepped out from the group of division officers near by, and 
prayed with and for the poor fellow a long, long time. Then the 
bugle sounded. The prisoner, standing proudly erect before his grave, 
had his eyes bandaged, and calmly folded his arms across his breast. 
The bugle sounded again. The officer in charge of the squad stepped 
forward. Then we heard the command, given as calmly as if ou 
drill, — 

" Ready ! " 

" Aim ! " 

Then, drowning out the third command, " Fire ! " came a flash of 
smoke and a loud report. The surgeons ran up to the spot. The 
bands and drum corps of the division struck up a quickstep as 
the division faced to the right, and marched past the grave in order 
that in the dead form of its occupant we might all see that the doom 
of the deserter is death. It was a sad sight. As we moved along, 
many a rough fellow, from whom you would hardly have expected any 
sign of pity, pretending to be adjusting his cap so as to screen his eyes 
from the glare of the westering sun, could be seen furtively drawing 
his hand across his face and dashing away the tears that could not be 
kept from trickling down the bronzed and weatherbeaten cheek. As 
we marched off the field, we could not help being sensible of the harsh 
contrast between the lively music to which our feet were keeping step, 
and the fearfully solemn scene we had just witnessed. The transition 
from the "Dead March" to the quickstep was quite too sudden. A 



144 



RECOLLECTIONS OF A DIWMMER BOY. 



deep solemnity pervaded the ranks as we marched homeward across 
the open field and into the sombre pine woods beyond, thinking, as we 
went, of the poor fellow's home, somewhere among the pleasant hills of 
Maryland, and of the sad and heavy hearts there would be there when 
it was known that he had paid the extreme penalty of the law. 







CHAPTER XIV. 

A TALE OF A SQUIRREL AND THREE BLIND MICE. 

" Andy, what is a shade-tail ? " 

We were encamped in an oak forest, on the eastern bank of the 
Rappahannock, kite in the fall of 1863. We had built no winter 
quarters yet, although the nights were growing rather frosty, and had 
to content ourselves with our little " dog tents," as we called our 
shelters, some dozen or so of which now constitued our company row. 
I had just come in from a trip through the woods, in quest of water at 
a spring near an old deserted log-house, about a half mile to the south 
of our camp, when, throwing down my heavy canteens, I made the 
above interrogatory of my chum. 

Andy was lazily lying at full length on his back in the tent, reclin- 
ing on a soft bed of pine branches, or "Virginia feathers," as we called 
them, with his hands clasped behind his head, lustily singing, — 

" Tramp, tramp, tramp ! the boys are marching ! 
Cheer up, comrades, they will come ! 
And beneath the starry flag 
We shall breathe the air again — " 

" What's that ? " asked he, ceasing his song before finishing the 
stanza, and rising up on his elbow. 

"I asked whether you could tell me what a shade-tail is?" 

" A shade-tail ! Never heard of it before. Don't believe there is 

any such thing. I know what a bucktail is, though. There's one," 

said he, pulling a fine specimen out from under his knapsack. " That 

just came in the mail, while you were gone. The old buck that 

145 



146 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

chased the flies with that brush for many a year, was shot up among 
the Buffalo mountains last winter, and my father bought his tail of the 
man who killed him, and has sent it to me. It cost him just one 
dollar." 

Bucktails were in great demand with us in those days, and happy 
indeed was the man who could secure so fine a specimen as Andy now 
proudly held in his hand. 

" But isn't it rather large ? " inquired I. " And it's nearly all 
white, and would make an excellent mark for some Johnny to shoot 
at, eh ? " 

" Never you fear for that. ' Old Trusty ' up there," said he, point- 
ing to his gun hanging along underneath the ridge-pole of the tent, — 
" ' Old Trusty ' and I will take care of Johnny Reb." 

" But, Andy," continued I, " you haven't answered my question 
yet. What is a shade tail ? " 

" A shade tail, " said he meditatively, — " how should I know ? I 
know precious well what a detail is, though ; and I'm on one for 
to-morrow. We go across the river to throw up breastworks." 

" I forgot," said I, " that you have not studied Greek to any extent 
yet. If you live to get home and go back to school again at the old 
Academy, and. begin to dig Greek roots in earnest, you will find that a 
sliade tail is a — squirrel. For that is what the old Greeks called the 
bonn}'- bush tail. Been use, don't you see, when a squirrel sits up on a 
tree with his tail turned up over his back, he makes a shade for him- 
self with his tail, and sits, as it were, under the shadow of his own vine 
and fig tree." 

" Well," said Andy, " and what if he does ? What's to hinder 
him? " 

" Nothing," answered I, entering the tent and lying down beside 
him on the pile of Virginia feathers ; " only I saw one out here in the 
woods as I came along, and I think I know where his nest is ; and if 



A SQUIRREL AND THREE BLIND MICE. 147 

you and I can catch him, or, what would be better still, if we can cap- 
ture one of his young ones, if he has any, why we might tame him and 
keep him for a pet. I've often thought it would be a fine thing for us 
to have a pet of some kind or other. Over in the Second Division 
there is one regiment that has a pet crow, and another has a kitten. 
They go with the men on all their marches, and they say that the 
kitten has actually been wounded in battle, and no doubt will be 
taken or sent up North some day and be a great curiosity. Now why 
couldn't we catch and tame a shade tail ? " 

" Yes," said Andy, becoming a little interested ; " he could be 
taught to perch on Pointer's buck horns in camp, and could ride on 
your drum on the march." 

Pointer, you must know, was the tallest man in the company, and 
therefore stood at the head of the line when the company was formed. 
When we enlisted, he brought with him a pair of deer antlers as an 
appropriate symbol for a Buck tail company, - — no doubt with the 
intention of making both ends meet. Now the idea of having a live 
tame squirrel to perch on Pointer's buck horns was a capital one 
indeed. 

But as the first thing to be done in cooking a hare is to catch the 
hare, so we concluded that the first thing to be done in taming a 
squirrel was to catch the squirrel. This gave us a world of thought. 
It would not do to shoot him. We could not trap him. After dis- 
cussing the merits of smoking him out of his hole, we determined at 
last to risk cutting down the tree in which he had his home, and try- 
ing to catch him in a bag. 

That afternoon, when we thought he would likely be at home 
taking a nap, having provided ourselves with an axe, an old oat 
bag, and a lot of tent rope, we cautiously proceeded to the old 
beech tree on the outskirts of the camp, where our intended pet had 
his home. 



148 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

" Now, you see, Andy," said I, pointing up to a crotch in the tree, 
"up there is his front door ; there he goes out and comes in. My plan 
is this : one of us must climb the tree and tie the mouth of the bag 
over that hole somehow, and come down. Then we will cut the tree 
down, and when it falls, if old shade tail is at home, like as not he'll 
run into the bag; and then, if we can be quick enough, we can tie a 
string around the bag, and there he is ! " 

Andy climbed the tree and tied the bag. After he had descended, 
we set vigorously to work at cutting down the beech. It took us 
about half an hour to make any serious inroad upon the tough trunk. 
But by and by we had the satisfaction of seeing the tree apparently 
shiver under our blows, and at last down it came with a crash. 

We both ran toward the bag as fast as we could, ready to secure 
our prize ; but we found, alas ! that, squirrels sometimes have two 
doors to their houses, and that while we had hoped to bag our bush 
tail at the front door, he had merrily skipped out the back way. For 
scarcely had the tree reached the ground, when we both beheld our 
intended pet leaping out of the branches and running up a neighboring 
tree as fast as his legs could carry him. 

" Plague take it ! " said Andy, wiping the perspiration from his 
face, " what shall we do now ? I guess you'd better run to camp and 
get a little salt to throw on his tail." 

" Never mind," said I, " we'll get him yet, see if we don't. I see 
him up there behind that old dry limb peeping out at us — there he 
goes ! " 

Sure enough, there he did go, from tree top to tree top, " lickerty 
skoot," as Andy afterward expressed it, and we after him, quite losing 
our heads, and shouting like Indians. 

As ill luck would have it, our shade tail was making straight for 
the camp, on the outskirts of which he was discovered by one of the 
men, who instantly gave the alarm — "A squirrel ! a squirrel ! " In a 



A SQUIRREL AND THREE BLIND MICE. 149 

moment all the boys in camp not on duty came running pell-mell, 
Sergeant Kensill's black and tan terrier, Little Jim, of whom more 
anon, leading the way. I suppose there must have been about a 
hundred men together, and all yelling and shouting too, so that the 
poor squirrel checked his headlong course high up on the dead limb of 
a great old oak tree. Then, forming a circle around the tree, with 
" Little Jim " in the midst, the boys began to shout and yell as when 
on the charge, — 

" Yi-yi-yi ! Yi-yi-yi ! " 

Whereat the poor squirrel was so terrified, that, leaping straight up 
and out from his perch into open space, in sheer affright and despair, 
down he came tumbling, tail over head, into the midst of the circle, 
which rapidly closed about him as he neared the ground. With yells 
and cheers that made the wood ring, a hundred hands were stretched 
out as if to catch him as he came down. But Little Jim beat them all. 
True to his terrier blood and training, he suddenly leaped up like a 
shot, seized the squirrel by the nape of the neck, gave him a few 
angry shakes, which ended his agony, and carried him off triumph- 
antly in his mouth to the tent of his owner, Sergeant Kensill, of 
Company F. 

That evening, as we sat in our tent eating our fried hard-tack, 
Andy remarked, while sipping his coffee from his black tin cup, that if 
buck tails were as hard to catch as shade tails, they were well worth a 
dollar apiece any day ; and that he believed a crow, or one of those 
young pigs we found running wild in the woods when we came to that 
camp, or something of that sort, would make a better pet than a 
squirrel. 

" Well," said I, " we caught those pigs, anyhow, didn't we ? But 
didn't they squeal ! Fortunately, they were so much like oysters that 
they couldn't get away from us, and all found their way into our 
frying-pans at last." 



150 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

"I fail to apprehend your meaning," said Andy, with mock gravity, 
setting down his bhick tin cup on the gum blanket. " By what right 
or authority, sir, do you presume to tell me that a pig is like an 
oyster ? " 

" Why, don't you see ? A pig is like an oyster because he caiit 
dmib a tree ! And that's the reason why we caught him." 

" Bah ! " exclaimed Andy; "that's a miserable joke, that is." 

" Yet you must admit that it is a most happy circumstance that a 
pig cannot climb a tree, or we should have missed more than one good 
meal of fresh pork. Yet although we failed to make a pet of the 
squirrel because he could climb a tree, and of the pig because he could 
not, we shall make a pet of something or other yet. Of that I am 
certain." 

It was some months later, and not until we were safely established 
in winter quarrers, that we finally succeeded in our purpose of having 
something to pet. I was over at brigade headquarters one day, visiting 
a friend who had charge of several supply wagons. Being present 
while he was engaged in overhauling his stores, I found in the bottom 
of a large box, in which blankets had been packed away, a whole 
family of mice. The father of the family promptly made his escape ; 
the mother was killed in the capture, and one little fellow was 
so injured that he soon died ; but the rest, three in number, I took out 
unhurt. As I laid them in the palm of my hand, they at once struck 
me as perfect little beauties. They were very young and quite small, 
being no larger than the end of my finger, with scarcely any fur 
on them, and their eyes quite shut. Putting them into my pocket, and 
covering them with some cotton which my friend gave me, I started 
home with my prize. Stopping at the surgeon's quarters on reaching 
camp, I begged a large empty bottle (which I afterward found had 
been lately filled with pulverized gum arable), and somewhere secured 
an old tin can of the same diameter as the bottle. Then I got a strong 



A SQUIBB EL AND THBEE BLIND MICE. 151 

twine, went down to my tent, and asked Andy to help me make a cage 
for my pets, which with pride I took out of my pocket and set to 
crawling and nosing about on the warm blankets on the bunk. 

"What are you going to do with that bottle? " inquired Andy. 

" Going to cut it in two with this string," said I, holding up my 
piece of twine. 

" Can't be done ! " asserted he. 

" Wait and see," answered I. 

Procuring a mess pan full of cold water, and placing it on the floor 
of the tent, near the bunk on which we were sitting, I wound the 
twine once around the bottle, a few inches from the bottom, in such a 
way that Andy could hold one end of the bottle and pull one end of 
the twine one way, while I held the other end of the bottle and pulled 
the other end of the twine the other way, thus causing the twine, by 
means of its rapid friction, to heat the bottle in a narrow, straight line 
all around. After sawing away in this style for several minutes, I 
suddenly plunged tlie bottle into the pan of cold water, when it at 
once snapped in two along the line where the twine had passed around 
it, and as clean and clear as if it had been cut b}^ a diamond. Then, 
melting off the top of the old tin can by holding it in the fire, I fast- 
ened the body of the can on the lower end of the bottle. When 
finished, the whole arrangement looked like a large, long bottle, the 
upper part of which was glass and the lower tin. In this way I 
accomj)lished the double purpose of providing my pets with a dark 
chamber and a well-lighted apartment, at the same time preventing 
them from running away. Placing some cotton on the inside of both 
can and bottle, for a bed, and thrusting a small sponge, moistened with 
sweetened water, into the neck of the bottle, I then put my pets into 
their new home. Of course they could not see, for their eyes were 
not yet open ; neither did they, at first, seem to know how to eat ; but 
as necessity is the mother of invention, with mice as well as with 



152 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

men, they soon learned to toddle forward to the neck of the bottle 
and suck their sweet sponge. In a short time they learned also to 
nibble at a bit of apple, and by and by could crunch their hard-tack 
like veritable veterans. 

The bottle, as has already been said, had been filled with pulver- 
ized gum arable, Some of this still adhering to the inside of the 
bottle, was gradually brushed off by their growing fur; and it was 
amusing to see the little things sit on their haunches and clean them- 
selves of the sticky substance. Sometimes they would all three be 
busy at the same time, each at himself ; and again, two of them would 
take to licking the third, rubbing their little red noses all over him, 
from head to tail, in the most amusing way imaginable. 

Gradually, they grew very lively, and became quite tame, so that 
we could take them out of their house into our hands, and let them 
hunt about in our pockets for apple seeds or pieces of hard-tack. We 
called them Jack, Jill, and Jenny, and they seemed to know their 
names. When let out of their cage occasionally, for a romp on the 
blankets, they would climb over everything, running along the inner 
edge of the eave boards and the ridgepole, but never succeeded in 
getting away from us. It was a comical sight to see little Jim come 
in to look at them. A mouse was almost the highest possible excite- 
ment to Jim, for a mouse was second-cousin to a rat, no doubt, as Jim 
looked at matters ; and just say " rats ! " to Jim, if you wanted to 
see him jump ! He would come in and look at our pets, turn his head 
from one side to the other, and wrinkle his brow, and whine and bark; 
but we were determined he should not kill our mousies, as he had 
killed our shade tail a few months before. 

What to do with our pets when spring came on, and winter 
quarters were nearly at an end, we knew not. We could not take 
them along on the march, neither did we like to leave them behind ; 
for it seemed cruel to leave Jack, Jill, and Jenny in the deserted and 



A SQUIRREL AND THREE BLIND MICE. 153 

dismantled camp to go back to the barbarous habits of their ancestors. 
On consideration, therefore, we concluded to take them back to the 
wagon train, and leave them with the wagoner, who, though at first he 
demurred to our proposal, at last consented to let us turn them loose 
among his oat bags, where I doubt not they had a merry time indeed. 



CHAPTER XV. 

" THE PRIDE OF THE REGIMENT." 

The pet-making disposition which had led Andy and me to take so 
much trouble with our mice was not confined to ourselves alone. The 
disposition was quite natural, and therefore very general among the 
men of all commands. Pets of any and all kinds, whether chosen 
from the wild or the domestic animals, were everywhere in great 
esteem, and happy was the regiment which possessed a tame crow, 
squirrel, coon, or even a kitten. 

Our own regiment possessed a pet of great value and high esteem 
in Little Jim, of whom some incidental mention has already been 
made. As Little Jim enlisted with the regiment, and was honorably 
mustered out of the service with it at the close of the war, after three 
years of as faithful service as so little a creature as he could render the 
flag of his country, some brief account of him here may not be out of 
place. 

Little Jim, then, was a small rat terrier, of fine blooded stock, his 
immediate maternal ancestor having won a silver collar in a celebrated 
rat pit in Philadelphia. Late in 1 859, while yet a pup, he was given 
by a sailor friend to John C. Kensill, with whom he was mustered into 
the United States service " for three years, or during the war," on 
Market Street, Philadelphia, Pa., late in August, 1862. Around his 
neck was a silver collar with the inscription, — " Jim Kensill, Co. F, 
150th Regt. P. V." 

He soon came to be a great favorite with the boys, not only of his 
own company, but of the entire regiment as well, the men of the dif- 

154 



''THE PRIDE OF THE REGIMENT:' 155 

ferent companies thinking quite as much of him as if he belonged to 
each of them individually, and not to Sergeant Kensill, of Company F, 
alone. On the march he would be caught up from the roadside where 
he was doggedly trotting along, and given a ride on the arms of the 
men, who would pet him and talk to him as if he were a child and not 
a dog. In winter quarters, however, he would not sleep anywhere 
except on Kensill's arm and underneath the blankets ; nor was he ever 
known to spend a night away from home. On first taking the field, 
rations were scarce with us, and for several days fresh meat could not 
be had for poor Jim, and he nearly starved. Gradually, however, his 
master taught him to take a hard-tack between his fore paws, and, 
holding it there, to munch and crunch at it till he had consumed it. 
He soon learned to like hard-tack, and grew fat on it, too. On the 
march to Chancellorsville he was lost for two whole days, to the great 
grief of the men. When his master learned that he had been seen 
with a neighboring regiment, he had no difficulty in finding volunteers 
to accompany him when he announced that he was about to set out 
for the recapture of Jim. They soon found where he was. Another 
regiment had possession of him, and laid loud and angry claim to 
him ; but Kensill and his men were not to be frightened, for he knew 
the Buck tails were at his back, and that sooner than give up Little 
Jim there would be some rough work. As soon as Jim heard his 
master's sharp whistle, he came bounding and barking to his side, over- 
joyed to be at home again, albeit he had lost his silver collar, which his 
thievish captors had cut from his neck, in order the better to lay claim 
to him. 

He was a good soldier too, being no coward, and caring not a wag 
of his tail for the biggest shells the Johnnies could toss over at us. He 
was with us under our first shell fire at " Clarke's Mills," a few miles 
below Fredericksburg, in May, 1863, and ran barking after the very 
first shell that came screaming over our heads. When the shell had 



156 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

buried, itself in the ground, Jim went up close to it, crouching down 
on all fours, while the boys cried " Rats ! rats ! Shake him, Jim ! 
Shake him, Jim ! " Fortunately, that first shell did not explode, and 
when others came that did explode, Jim, with true military instinct, 
soon learned to run after them and bark, but to keep a respectful dis- 
tance from them. 

On the march to Gettysburg he was with us all the way, but when 
we came near the enemy, his master sent him back to William Wig- 
gins, the wagoner ; for he thougnt too much of Jim to run the risk of 
losing him in battle. It was a pity Jim was not with us out in front 
of the Seminary the morning of the first day, when the fight opened ; 
for as soon as the cannon began to boom, the rabbits began to run in 
all directions, as if scared quite out of their poor little wits ; and there 
would have been fine sport for Jim with the cotton tails, had he only 
been there to give them chase. 

In the first day's fight, Jim's owner. Sergeant John C. Kensill, while 
bravely leading the charge for the recapture of the 149th Pennsylvania 
Regiment's battle flags, of which some brief account has been else- 
where given, was wounded and left for dead on the field, with a bullet 
through his head. He, however, so far recovered from his wound that 
in the following October he rejoined the regiment, which was then 
lying down along the Rappahannock somewhere. In looking for the 
regiment, on his return from a Northern hospital. Sergeant Kensill 
chanced to pass the supply train, and saw Jim busy at a bone under a 
wagon. Hearing the old familiar whistle, Jim at once looked up, saw 
his master, left his bone, and came leaping and barking in greatest 
delight to his owner's arm. 

On the march he was sometimes sent back to the wagon. Once he 
came near being killed. To keep him from following the regiment or 
from straying and getting lost in search of it, the wagoner had tied 
him to the rear axle of his wagon with a strong twine. In crossing a 



''THE PRIDE OF THE REGIMENT:' 157 

stream, in his anxiety to get his team over safely, the wagoner forgot 
all about poor little Jim, who was dragged and slashed through the 
waters in a most unmerciful way. After getting safely over the 
stream, the teamster, looking back, found poor Jim under the rear of 
the wagon, being dragged along by the neck, more dead than alive. 
He was then put on the sick list for a few days : but with this single 
exception he had never a mishap of any kind, and was always ready 
for duty. 

His master having been honorably discharged before the close of 
the war because of wounds, Jim was left with the regiment in care of 
Wiggins, the wagoner. When the regiment was mustered out of ser- 
vice at the end of the war, Little Jim was mustered out too. He stood 
up in rank with the boys and wagged his tail for joy that peace had 
come and that we were all going home. I understand that his dis- 
charge papers were regularly made out, the same as those of the men, 
and that they read somewhat as follows, — 

To ALL WHOM IT AfAT CONCERN : Know ye that Jim Kensill, Private, 
Company F, 150th Regiment Pennsylvania Volunteers, who was enrolled on 
the twenty-second day of August, One Thousand Eiglit Hundred and Sixty- 
two, to serve three years, or during the war, is hereby discharged from tlie 
service of the United States, this twenty-third day of June, 1865, at Elmira, 
New York, by direction of the Secretary of War. 

(No objection to his being re-enlisted is known to exist.) 

Said Jim Kensill was born in Philadelphia, in the State of Pennsylvania, 
is six years of age, six inches high, dark complexion, black eyes, black and 
tan hair, and by occupation, when enrolled, a Rat Terrier. 

Given at Elmira, New York, this twenty-third day of June, 1865. 

JAMES R. REID, 
Capt. Tenth U. S. Infantry, A.C.M. 

Before parting with him, the boys bought him a silver collar, which 
they had suitably inscribed with his name, regiment, and the principal 



158 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

engagements in which he had participated. Tliis collar, which he had 
honorably earned in the service of his country in war, he proudly wore 
in peace to the day of his death. 



Although not pertaining to the writer's own personal recollections, 
there yet may be appropriately introduced here some brief mention of 
another pet, who, from being " the pride of his regiment," gradually 
arose to the dignity of national fame. I mean " Old Abe," the war 
eagle of the Eighth Wisconsin Volunteers. 

Whoever it may have been that first conceived the idea, it was cer- 
tainly a happy thought to make a pet of an eagle. For the eagle is 
our national bird, and to carry an eagle along with the colors of a 
regiment on the march, and in battle, and all through the whole war, 
was surely very appropriate indeed. 

"Old Abe's" perch was on a shield, which was carried by a soldier, 
to whom, and to whom alone, he looked as to a master. He would 
not allow any one to carry, or even to handle him except this soldier, 
nor would he ever receive his food from any other person's hands. He 
seemed to have sense enough to know that he was sometimes a burden 
to his master on the march, however, and, as if to relieve him, would 
occasionally spread his wings and soar aloft to a great height, the men 
of all regiments along the line of march cheering him as he went up. 
He regularly received his rations from the commissaiy, the same as any 
enlisted man. Whenever fresh meat was scarce, and none could be 
found for him by foraging parties, he would take things into his own 
claws, as it were, and go out on a foraging expedition himself. On 
some such occasions he would be gone two or three days at a time, 
during which nothing whatever was seen of him ; but he would inva- 
riably return, and seldom came back without a young lamb or a 
chicken in his talons. His long absences occasioned his regiment not 



'THE PRIDE OF THE REGIMENT:' 



159 



the slightest concern, for the men knew that though he might tiy 
many miles away in quest of food, he would be quite sure to lind 
them again. 

In what way he distinguished the two hostile armies so accurately 
that he was never once known to mistake the gray for the blue, no one 
can tell. But so it was, that he was never known to alight save 
in his own camp, and amongst his 
own men. 

At Jackson, Mississippi, dur- 
ing the hottest part of the bat- 
tle before that city, "Old Abe" 
soared up into the air, and re- 
mained there from early morning 
until the fight closed at night, 
having, no doubt, greatly enjoyed 
his bird's-eye view of the battle. 
He did the same at Mission 
Ridge. He was, I believe, struck 
by the enemy's bullets two or 
three times ; but his feathers 
were so thick, that his body was 
not much hurt. The shield on 
which he was carried, however, 
showed so many marks of the 
enemy's balls that it looked on 
top as if a groove plane had been 
run over it. 

At the Centennial celebration held in Philadelphia, in 1876, "Old 
Abe " occupied a prominent place on his perch on the west side of the 
nave in the Agricultural building. He was still alive, though evi- 
dently growing old, and was the observed of all observers. Thousands 




160 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

of visitors, from all sections of the country, paid their respects to 
the grand old bird, who, apparently conscious of the honors conferred 
upon him, overlooked the sale of his biography and photographs going 
on beneath his perch with entire satisfaction. 

As was but just and right, the soldier who had carried hira during 
the war continued to have charge of him after the war was over, until 
the day of his death, which occurred at the Capitol of Michigan 
in 1881. 

Proud as the Wisconsin boys justly were of " Old Abe," the 
Twelfth Indiana Regiment possessed a pet of whom it may be truly 
said, that he enjoyed a renown scarcely second to that of the wide- 
famed war eagle. This was " Little Tommy," as he was familiarly 
called in those days, — the youngest drummer-boy, and, so far as the 
writer's knowledge goes, the youngest enlisted man in the Union 
Army. The writer well remembers having seen him on several occa- 
sions. His diminutive size and childlike appearance, as well as his 
remarkable skill and grace in handling the drumsticks, never failed to 
make an impression on the beholder. Some brief and honorable 
mention of " Little Tommy," the pride of the Twelfth Indiana Regi- 
ment, may with propriety find a place in these " Recollections of a 
Drummer-Boy." 

Thomas Hubler was born in Fort Wayne, Allen County, Indiana, 
October 9, 1851. When two years of age, the family removed 
to Warsaw, Indiana. On the outbreak of the war, his father, who had 
been a German soldier of the truest type, raised a company of men, in 
response to President Lincoln's first call for seventy-five thousand 
troops. " Little Tommy " was among the first to enlist in his father's 
company, the date of enrollment being April 19, 1861. He was then 
nine years and six months old. 

The regiment to which the company was assigned was with the 
Army of the Potomac throughout all its campaigns in Maryland and 



"THE PRIDE OF THE REGIMENTS 161 

Virginia. At the expiration of its term of service, in August, 1862, 
" Little Tommy " re-enlisted, and served to the end of the war, having 
been present in some twenty-six battles in all. He was greatly 
beloved by all the men of his regiment, and was a constant favorite 
amongst them. It is thought that he beat the first " long roll " of the 
great Civil War. He is still living in Warsaw, Indiana, and bids fair 
to be the latest survivor of the great and grand army of which he was 
the youngest member. With the swift advancing years the ranks of 
the soldiers of the late war are being rapidly thinned out, and tliose 
who yet remain are showing signs of age. The " Boys in Blue " are 
thus, as the'years go by, almost imperceptibly turning into the " Boys 
in Gray " ; and as ** Little Tommy," the youngest of them all, sounded 
their first reveille, so may he yet live to beat their last tattoo. 




CHAPTER XVI. 

ABOUND THE CAMP-FIRE. 

What glorious camp-fires we used to have in the fall of the year 
1863 I It makes one rub his hands together yet just to think of them. 
The nights were getting cold and frosty, so that it was impossible to 
sleep under our little shelters with comfort ; and so half the night 
was spent around the blazing fires at the ends of the company streets. 

I always took care that there should be a blazing good fire for our 
little company, anyhow. My duties were light, and left me time, 
which I found I could spend with pleasure in swinging an axe. Hick- 
or}^ and white oak saplings were my favorites ; and with these cut into 
lengths of ten feet, and piled up as high as my head on wooden fire- 
dogs, what a glorious crackle we would have by midnight ! Go out 
there what time of night you might please, — and you were pretty 
sure to go out to the fire three or four times a night, for it was too 
bitterly cold to sleep in the tent more than an hour at a stretch, — 
you would always find a half dozen of the boys sitting about the fire, 
on logs, smoking their pipes, telling yarns, or singing odd catches of 
songs. As I recall those weird night scenes of army life, — the 
blazing fire, the groups of swarthy men gathered about, the thick 
darkness of the forest, where the lights and shadows danced and 
played all night long, and the rows of little white tents, covered with 
frost, — it looks quite poetical in the retrospect ; but I fear it was 
sometimes prosy enough in the reality. 

" If you fellows would stop your everlasting arguing, there, and go 
out and bring in some wood, it would be a good deal better ; for 

162 



ABOUND THE CAMP-FIRE. 163 

if we don't have a big camp-fire to-night we'll freeze in this snow- 
storm. 

So saying, Pointer threw down the but end of a pine sapling he 
had been half dragging, half carrying, out of the woods in the edge 
of which we were to camp, and, axe in hand, fell to work at it with 
a will. 

There was, indeed, some need of following Pointer's good advice, 
for it was snowing fast and was bitterly cold. It was Christmas Eve, 
1863, and here we were, with no protection but our little shelters, 
pitched on the hard, frozen ground. 

Why did we not build winter quarters, do you ask ? Well, we had 
already built two sets of winter quarters, and had been ordered out of 
them in both instances, to take part in some expedition or other; and 
it was a little hard to be houseless and homeless at this merry season 
of the year, when folks up North were having such happy times, 
wasn't it? But it is wonderful how elastic the spirits of a soldier are, 
and how jolly he can be under the most adverse circumstances. 

" Well, Pointer, they hadn't any business to put me out of the 
mess. That was a mean trick, any way you take it." 

" If we hadn't put you out of our mess you'd have eaten up 
our whole box from home in one night. He's an awful glutton. 
Pointer." 

" Say, boys ! I move we organize ourselves into a court, and try 
this case," said Sergeant Cummings. "They've been arguing and 
arguing about this thing the whole day, and it's time to take it up and 
put an end to it. The case is — let's see, what'll we call it? I'm not 
a very good hand at the legal lingo, but I suppose if we call it 
a ' motion to quash a writ of ejectment,' or something of that sort, 
we'll be within the lines of the law. Let me now state the case : 
Shell versus Diehl and Hottenstein. These three, all members of 
Company D, after having lived, messed, and sojourned together 



164 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

peaceably for a year or more, have had of hite some disagreement, 
quarrel, squabble, fracas, or general tearing out, the result of which 
said disagreement, quarrel, squabble, et cetery, et cetery, has been that 
the hereinbefore mentioned Shell has been thrown out of the mess, and 
left to the cold charities of the cami^ ; and he, the said Shell, now 
lodges a due and formal complaint before this honorable court, 
presently sitting on this pile of pine brush, and humbly prays and 
petitions reinstatement in his just rights and claims, ame qua no7i, e 
plurihus unum, pro bono publico ! 

" Silence in the court ! " 

To organize ourselves into a court of justice was a matter of a few 
moments. Cummings was declared judge, Ruhl and Ransom his 
assistants. A jury of twelve men, good and true, was speedily 
impannelled. Attorneys and tipstaves, sheriff and clerk were ap- 
pointed, and in less time than it takes to narrate it, there we were, 
seated on piles of pine brush around a roaring camp-fire, with the 
snow falling fast, and getting deeper every hour, trying the celebrated 
case of " Shell versus Diehl and Hottenstein." And a world of merri- 
ment we had out of it, you may well believe. When the jury, after 
having retired for a few moments behind a pine tree, brought in a 
verdict for the plaintiff, it was full one o'clock on Christmas morning, 
and we began to drop off to sleep, some rolling themselves up in their 
blankets and overcoats, and lying down, Indian fashion, feet to the 
fire ; while others crept off to their cold shelters under the snow- 
laden pine trees for what poor rest they could find, jocularly wishing 
one another a " Merry Christmas ! " 

Time wore away monotonously in the camp we established there, 
near Culpeper Courthouse. All the more weary a winter was it for 
me because I was so sick that I could scarcely drag myself about. So 
miserable did I look, that one day a Company B boy said, as I was 
passing his tent, — 



AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE. 165 

"Young mon, 'an if ye don't be afther pickin' up a bit, it's my 
opinion ye'll be gathered home to your fathers purty soon." 

I was sick witli the same disease which slew more men than 
fell in actual battle. We had had ai late fall campaign, and 




CHRISTMAS EVE AKOUND THE LAMl'-FIKK. 

had suffered much from exposure, of which one instance may 
suffice, — 

We had been sent into Thoroughfare Gap to hold that moun- 
tain pass. Breaking camp there at daylight in a drenching rain, 
we marched all day long, through mud up to our knees, and soaked 



166 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

to the skin by the cold rain ; at night we forded a creek waist 
deep, and marched on with clothes frozen almost stiff; at one 
o'clock the next morning we lay down utterly exhausted, shiv- 
ering helplessly, in wet clothes, without fire, and exposed to the 
northwest wind that swept the vast plain, keen and cold as a 
razor. "Whoever visits the Soldier's Cemetery near Culpeper will 
there find a part of the sequel of that night march ; the remain- 
der is scattered far and wide over the hills of Virginia, and in 
forgotten places among the pines. 

Could we have liad home care and home diet, many would have 
recovered. But what is to be done for a sick man whose only choice 
of diet must be made from pork, beans, sugar, and hard-tack? 
Home ? Ah yes, if we only could get home for a month ! Homesick ? 
Well, no, not exactly. Still we were not entire strangers to the feel- 
ings of that poor recruit who was one day found by his lieutenant 
sitting on a fallen pine tree in the woods, crj^ing as if his heart would 
break. 

" Why," said the lieutenant, " what are you crying for, you big 
baby, you ? " 

" I wish I was in my daddy's barn, boo, hoo ! " 

"And what would you do if you were ?" 

The poor fellow replied between his sobs : " Why, if I was in my 
daddy's barn, Fd go into the house mighty quick/" 

Now that I am speaking of homesickness, I must relate an 
instance of it which struck me as most ludicrous at the time, 
and of which I can hardly even yet think without a broad 
smile. The occurrence had somehow entirely slipped my memory, 
until it was fortunately recalled one evening at a social gather- 
ing, a small " Camp-Fire," as it were, of some half dozen of 
the members of our company. We had been holding "Memo- 
rial Day " services in my native town, and in the evening after 




the services were over, 
some half dozen of our 
old boys gathered at the 
house of Comrade Albert \'3 



Foster, where we had a 
good supper, and a good 
time after supper talking 
of army life. 

" Do any of you boys 
know anything about Cal 
Wirt?" asked Pete Grove. 
"I'd like to hear some- (^^^^^vlf^-^^^^^ jjihiCJl^ ^ ,c^i ^^/ ' 



(167) 



168 



BECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 



thing of him once. Harry, you must certainly remember Cal 
Wirt? 

"Cal Wirt?" said I, "let me see. Wasn't he with us when 
— Ah, yes ! now I remember him quite well. And now that 
you have recalled him to my memory, I must tell you a story 
which the mention of his name recalls vividly to my mind, though 




CAI> WIRT S MAP OF THE WAR. 



A — The United States. 
C — Union County. 



B — Pennsylvania. 
D — Lewisburef. 



I had forgotten quite all about it until this moment. Did any 
of you boys hear of, or do you remember anything about 'Cal 
Wirt's map of the War?'" 

" Let's have it, Harry," exclaimed they, all at once. 

"Well, I cannot exactly recall when and where it was that he 
drew it, probably after Gettysburg when we had gone back again 
into Virginia. We were all feeling rather badly then, low spirited 
and a little homesick on turning our backs upon our native state. 



AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE. 169 

" Besides, we had very little to eat about that time, except 
blackberries. We were camped down about Warreiiton, some- 
where, and Cal was sitting, moody and silent, one evening about 
the camp fire whittling a stick. At length, getting up, and giv- 
ino- his trousers a ierk at the waist, as is the habit of some men, 
he took the stick he had been sharpening to a careful point, and 
stepping into the middle of the smooth and hard-beaten company 
street, began to draw an immense, irregular, rectangular figure on 
the ground. 

" ' Hello, Cal,' said some one, ' what's up now ? Goin' to play 
hopscotch? Should have thought you'd 'a had enough hoppin' 
around after the Johnnies this summer, without tryin' to limber 
your legs in that fashion.' 

'"Oh, no,' said another, 'Cal didn't hop after the Johnnies so 
much as he hopped away from them ! " 

"But, notwithstanding all the jibes and jeers of the boys, Cal 
went on with his drawing, as if intent on the solution of some 
intricate geometrical problem, tracing on the ground an immense, 
irregnlar rectangle, which occupied the full width and half the 
length of the company street. Within this he described another 
similar but somewhat smaller figure, within this another, and in 
the centre of this last he made a deeply dented dot. 

"The boys began to gather about Cal in a group, curious to 
learn ' what in the name of General Jackson he was up to, any- 
way.' He soon relieved their minds. 

"'Now, poys,' said Cal, as he straightened himself up as if 
to make a speech — in rather broken English — ' Now, poys, I 
tell you what. Dis here is a map of de war. Dis here great 
figger is de United Shtates ; de next one on de inside of dat 
is Pennsylvany; dat one on de inside of Pennsylvany is goot 
old Union Gounty'— and then, pausing for a moment and making 



170 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

a wry face, he brought down his sharpened stick with a sudden 
and desperate thrust at the point of the dot in the illustration, 
fell on his knees, folded his hands, rolled up his eyes, and, with 
a most ludicrous and wobegone expression of countenance and voice, 
exclaimed, — 

" Und dat, poy s, dat is Le wisburg, — und mine himmel, if I was 
only dere ! " 



\ 



CHAPTER XVII. 

OUR FIRST DAY IN "THE WILDERNESS." 

At last the long winter, with its deep snows and intense cold, was 
gone, and on May 4, 1864, at four o'clock in the morning, we broke 
camp. In what direction we should march, whether north, south, east, 
or west, none of us had the remotest idea ; for the pickets reported 
the Rapidan River so well fortified by the enemy on the farther bank, 
that it was plainly impossible for us to break their lines at any point 
there. But in those days we had a general who had no such word as 
" impossible " in his dictionary, and under his leadership we marched 
that May morning straight for and straight across the Rapidan, in solid 
column. All day we plodded on, the road strewn with blankets and 
overcoats, of which the army lightened itself now that the campaign 
was opening ; and at night we halted, and camped in a beautiful green 
meadow. 

Not the slightest suspicion had we, as we slept quietly there that 
night, of the great battle, or rather series of great battles, about to 
open on the following day. Even on that morrow, when we took up 
the line of march and moved leisurely along for an hour or two, we 
saw so few indications of the coming struggle, that, when we suddenly 
came upon a battery of artillery in position for action by the side of 
the road, some one exclaimed, — 

" Why, hello, fellows ! that looks like business ! " 

Only a few moments later, a staff officer rode up to our regiment 
and delivered his orders, — 

" Major, you will throw forward your command as skirmishers for 
the brigade." 

171 



172 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

The regiment at once moved into the thick pine ^Yoods, and was 
lost to sight in a moment, although we could hear the bugle clanging 
out its orders, " deploy to right and left," as the line forced its way 
through the tangled and interminable "Wilderness." 

Ordered back by the major into the main line of battle, we drum- 
mer-boys found the troops massed in columns along a road, and we lay 
down with them among the bushes. How many men were there we 
could not tell. Wherever we looked, whether up or down the road, 
and as far as the eye could reach, were masses of men in blue. Among 
them was a company of Indians, dark, swarthy, stolid-looking fellows, 
dressed in our uniform, and serving with some Iowa regiment, under 
the command of one of their chiefs as captain. 

But hark ! 

" Pop ! Pop ! Pop-pop-pop ! " The pickets are beginning to fire, 
the " ball is going to open," and things will soon be getting lively. 

A venturesome fellow climbs up a tall tree to see what he can see, 
and presently comes scrambling down, reporting nothing in sight but 
signal flags flying over the tree tops, and beyond them nothing but 
woods and woods for miles. 

Orderlies are galloping about, and staff officers are dashing up and 
down the line, or forcing their way through the tangled bushes, while 
out on the skirmish line is the ever-increasing rattle of the mus- 
ketry, — 

" Pop-pop ! Pop-pop -pop ! " 

" Fall in, men ! Forward, guide right ! " 

There is something grand in the promptitude with which the order 
is obeyed. Every man is at his post. Forcing its way as best it can 
through the tangled undergrowth of briers and bushes, across ravines 
and through swamps, our whole magnificent line advances, until, 
after a half-hour's steady work, we reach the skirmish line, which, 
hardly pressed, falls back into the advancing column of blue as it 



OUB FIRST DAY IN ''THE WILDERNESS:' 173 

reaches a little clearing in the forest. Now we see the lines of gray in 
the edge of the woods on the other side of the little field ; first their 
pickets behind clumps of bushes, then the solid column appearing 
behind the fence, coming on yelling like demons, and firing a volley 
that fills the air with smoke and cuts it with whistling lead. Shel- 
tered behind the trees, our line reserves its fire, for it is likely 
that the enemy will come out on a charge, and then we'll mow 
them down ! 

With bayonets fixed, and yells that make the woods ring, here 
they come, boys, through the clearing, on a dead run ! And now, as 
you love the flag that waves yonder in the breeze, up, boys, and let 
them have it ! Out from our Enfields flashes a sheet of flame, before 
which the lines of gray stagger for a moment ; but they recover and 
push on, then reel again and quail, and at length fly before the second 
leaden tempest, which sweeps the field clear to the opposite side. 

With cheers and shouts of "Victory!" our line, now advancing 
swiftly from behind its covert of the trees, sweeps into and across the 
clearing, driving back the enemy into the woods from which they had 
so confidently ventured. 

The little clearing over which the lines of blue are advancing is 
covered with dead and dying and wounded men, among whom I find 
Lieutenant Stannard, of my acquaintance. 

" Harry, help me ! quick ! " I'm bleeding fast. Tear off my sus- 
pender, or take my handkerchief and tie it as tight as you can draw it 
around my thigh, and help me off the field." 

Ripping up the leg of his trousers with my knife, I soon check the 
flow of blood with a hard knot, — and none too soon, for the main 
artery has been severed. Calling a comrade to my assistance, we 
succeed in reaching the woods, and make our way slowly to the rear 
in search of the division hospital. 

Whoever wishes to know something of the terrible realities of war 



174 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

should visit a field liospital during some great engagement. No doubt 
my young readers imagine war to be a great and glorious thing : and 
so, indeed, in many regards it is. It would be idle to deny that there 
is something stirring in the sound of martial music, something 
strangely uplifting and intensely fascinating in the roll of musketry 
and the loud thunder of artillery. Besides, the march and the battle 
afford opportunities for the unfolding of manly virtue ; and as things 
go in this disjointed world, human progress seems to be almost impos- 
sible without war. 

Yet still, war is a terrible, a horrible thing. If my young readers 
could have been with us as we helped poor Stannard off the field that 
first day in " the Wilderness " ; if they could have seen the surgeons 
of the first division of our corps as we saw them, when passing by 
with the lieutenant on a stretcher, — they would, I think, agree with 
me, that if war is a necessity, it is a dreadful necessity. There were 
the surgeons, busy at work, while dozens of poor fellows were lying 
all around on stretchers, awaiting their turns. 

" Hurry on, boys, hurry on ! Don't stop here ; I can't stand it ! " 
groaned our charge. 

So we pushed on with our burden, until we saw our division colors 
over in a clearing among the pines, and on reaching this we came upon 
a scene that I can never adequately describe. 

There were hundreds of the wounded already there ; other hun- 
dreds, perhaps thousands, were yet to come. On all sides, within and 
just without the hastily erected hospital tents, were the severely and 
dangerously wounded, while great numbers of slightly wounded men, 
with hands or feet bandaged or heads tied up, were lying about the 
sides of the tents or out among the bushes. The surgeons were every- 
where busy, — here dressing wounds ; there, alas ! stooping down to 
tell some poor felloM'', over whose countenance the pallor of death was 
already spreading, that there was no longer any hope for him ; and 



OUR FIRST DAY IN ^^ THE WILDERNESS:' 177 

down yonder, about a row of tables, each under a fly,^ stood groups of 
them, read}^ for their dreadful, and yet helpful work. 

To one of these groups we carried poor Stannard, and I stood by 
and watched. The sponge saturated with chloroform was put to his 
face, rendering him unconscious while the operation of tying the 
severed artery was performed. On a neighboring table was a man 
whose leg was being taken off at tlie thigli, and who, chloroformed 
into unconsciousness, interested everybody by singing, at the top of 
his voice, and with a clear articulation, five verses of a hymn, to an 
old-fashioned Methodist tune, never once losing the melody nor 
stopping for a word. I remember seeing another poor fellow witli his 
arm off at the shoulder, lying on the ground and resting after the 
operation. He appeared to be very much amused at himself, because 
(he said, in answer to my inquiry as to what he was laughing at) he 
had felt a fly on his right hand, and when he went to brush it off with 
his left there was no right hand there any more ! I remember, too, 
seeing a tall prisoner brought in and laid on the table, — a magnificent 
specimen of physical development ; erect, well built, and strong 
looking, and with a countenance full of frank and sturdy manliness. 
As the wounded prisoner was stretched out on the table, the surgeon 
said, — 

" Well, Johnny, my man, what is the matter with you, and what 
can we do for you to-day ? " 

"Well, doctor, your people have used me rather rough to-day. 
In the first place, there's something down in here," feeling about his 
throat, " that troubles me a good deal." 

Opening his shirt collar, the surgeon found a deep-blue mark an 
inch or more below the "Adam's apple." On pressing the blue lump 

' A piece of canvas, stretched over a pole and fastened to tent pins by long ropes; 
having no walls, it admits light on all sides. 



178 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

a little with the fingers, out popped a minie ball, which had lodged 
just beneath the skin. 

" Lucky for you that this was a ' spent ball,' Johnny," said the 
surgeon, holding the bullet between his fingers. 

" Give me that, doctor, give me that ball ; I want it," said Johnny, 
eagerly reaching out his left hand for the ball. Then he carefully 
examined it, and put it away into his jacket pocket. 

" And now, doctor, there's something else, you see, the matter with 
me, and something more serious, too, I'm afraid. You see, I can't use 
my right arm. The way was this : we were having a big fight out 
there in the woods. In the bayonet charge I got hold of one of your 
flags, and was waving it, when all on a sudden I got an ugly clip in 
the arm here, as you see." 

"Never mind, Johnny. We shall treat you just the same as our 
own boys, and though you are dressed in gray you shall be cared for as 
faithfully as if you were dressed in blue, until you are well and strong 
again." 

Never did I see a more delighted or grateful man than he, when, 
awakened from his deep chloroform sleep, he was asked whether he 
did not think his arm had better come off now ? 

" Just as you think best, doctor." 

" Look at your arm once, Johnny." 

What was his glad surprise to find that the operation had been 
already performed, and that a neat bandage was wound about his 
shoulder ! 

The most striking illustration of the power of religion to sustain a 
man in trial and distress, I saw there in that field hospital. 

We had carried Stannard into a tent, and laid him on a pile of 
pine boughs, where, had he only been able to keep quiet, he would 
have done well enough. But he was not able to keep quiet. A more 
restless man I never saw. Although his wound was not considered 



OUR FIRST DAY IN " TIIU WILDERNESS:' 179 

necessarily dangerous, jet he was evidently in great fear of death, and 
for death, I grieve to say, he was not at all prepared. He had been a 
wild, wayward man, and now that he thought the end was approach- 
ing, he was full of alarm. As I bent over him, trying my best, but in 
vain, to comfort and quiet him, my attention was called to a man on 
the other side of the tent, whose face I thought I kne\v'. iu .spite of its 
unearthly pallor. 

"Why, Smith," said I, "is this you? Where are you hurt?'' 

" Come turn me around and see," he said. 

Rolling him over carefully on his side, I saw a great, cruel wound 
in his back. 

My countenance must have expressed alarm when I asked him, 
as quietly as I could, whether he knew that he was very seriously 
wounded, and might die. 

Never shall I forget the look that man gave me, as, with a strange 
light in his eye, he said, — 

" I am in God's hands, I am not afraid to die." 

Two or three days after that, while we were marching on rapidly 
in column again, we passed an ambulance train filled with wounded 
on their way to Fredericksburg. Hearing my name called by some 
one, I ran out of line to an ambulance, in which I found Stannard. 

" Harry, for pity's sake, have you any water ? " 

" No, lieutenant ; I'm very sorry, but there's not a drop in my 
canteen, and there's no time now to get any." 

It was the last time I ever saw him. He was taken to Fredericks- 
burg, submitted to a second operation, and died ; and I have always 
believed that his death was largely owing to want of faith. 

Six months, or maybe a year, later. Smith came back to us with a 
great wliite scar between his shoulders, and I doubt not he is alive and 
well to this day. 

And there was Jimmy Lucas too. They brought him in about the 



180 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

middle of that same afternoon, two men bearing iiim on their arms. 
He was so pale, that I knew at a glance he was severely hurt. " A 
ball through the lungs," they said, and " he can't live." Jimmy was 
one of my own company, from my own village. We had been school- 
fellows and playmates from childhood almost, and you may well 
believe it was sad work to kneel down by his side and watch his slow 
and labored breathing, looking at his pallid features, and thinking — ; 
ah, yes, that was the saddest of all ! — of those at home. He would 
scarcely let me go from him a moment, and when the sun was setting, 
he requested every one to go out of the tent, for he wanted to speak 
a few words to me in private. As I bent down over him, he gave me 
his message for his father and mother, and a tender good by to his 
sweetheart, begging me not to forget a single word of it all if ever I 
should live to see them ; and then he said, — 

" And Harry, tell father and mother I thank them now for all 
their care and kindness in trying to bring me up well and in the fear 
of God. I know I have been a wayward boy sometimes, but my trust 
IS in him who said, ' Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy 
laden, and I will give you rest.' My hope is in God, and I shall die a 
Christian man." 

When the sun had set that evening, poor Jimmy had entered into 
rest. He was buried somewhere among the woods that night, and no 
flowers are strewn over his grave on " Decoration Day " as the years 
go by, for no head board marks his resting-place among the moaning 
pines ; but " the Lord knoweth them that are his." 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

A BIVOUAC FOR THE NIGHT. 

If from any cause whatsoever one happened to have lost his com- 
mand, or to have strayed away from or to have been left behind by his 
regiment, he could usually tell with tolerable certainty, as he trudged 
along the road among the men of another command, what part of the 
army he was with, and whether any of his own corps or division were 
anywhere near by ; and he could tell this at a glance, without so much 
as stopping to ask a question. Do you ask how? I answer by the 
badges the men wore on their caps. 

An admirable and significant system of badges was adopted for the 
entire Union army. The different corps were distinguished by the 
shapes^ the different divisions by the colors^ of their several badges. 
Thus the First Corps wore a round badge, the Second a clover leaf, 
the Third a diamond, the Fifth a Maltese cross, the Sixth a Roman 
cross, the Ninth a shield, the Eleventh a crescent, the Twentieth a 
star,^ and so on. As each corps usually included three divisions, and 
as it was necessary to distinguish each of these from the other two, 
the three good old colors of the flag were chosen for this purpose, — 
red, white, and blue, — red for the First Division of each corps, white 
for the Second, and blue for the Third. Thus a round red badge 
meant First Division, First Corps ; a round white. Second Division, 
First Corps ; a round blue. Third Division, First Corps ; and so on 
for the other corps. Division and corps headquarters could always be 
known by their flags, bearing the badges of their respective commands. 
As the men were all obliged to wear their proper badges, cut out of 

1 Later iu the service the Twelfth Corps wore the star. 
181 



182 



RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 



cloth or colored leather, on the top of their caps, one could always tell 
at a glance what part of the Army of the Potomac he was with. In 
addition to this, some regiments were distinguished by some pecu- 
liarity of uniform. Our own brigade was everywhere known as " The 
Bucktails," for we all wore bucktails on the side of our caps. 

It was in this way that I was able to tell that none of my own 
brigade, division, or even corps were anywhere near me, as, late one 

evening, about the middle 
of May, 1864, I wearily 
trudged along the road, in 
the neighborhood of Spott- 
sylvania Court House, in 
search of my regiment. I 
had lost the regiment early 
in the day, for I was so sick 
and weak when we started 
in the morning that it was 
scarcely possible for me to 
drag one foot after the other, 
much less to keep up at the lively pace the men were marching. Thus 
it had happened that I had been left behind. However, after having 
trudged along all day as best I could, when nightfall came on I threw 
myself down under a pine tree along the road which led through the 
woods, stiff and sore in limb, and half bewildered by a burning fever. 
All around me the woods were full of men making ready their bivouac 
for the night. Some were cooking coffee and frying pork, some were 
pitching their shelters, and some were already stretched out, sound 
asleep. But all, alas ! wore the red Roman cross. Could I only have 
espied a Maltese cross somewhere, I should have felt at home, for then 
I should have known that the good old Fifth Corps was near at hand. 
But no blue Maltese cross (the badge of my own division) was 




6ti> 9tb niH 12!!; 



ARMY BADGES. 



A BIVOUAC FOR THE NIGHT. 183 

anywhere to be seen. As I lay there, witli half closed eyes, feverishly 
wondering where in the world I was, and heartily wishing for the sight 
of some one wearing a bucktail on his cap, I heard a well-known voice 
talking with some one out in the road, and, leaning upon my elbow, 
called out eagerly, — 

"Harter! Hello! Harter ! Harter ! " 

" Hello ! Who are you ? " replied the sergeant, peering in 
amongst the trees and bushes. " Why, Harry, is that you ? And 
where in the world is the regiment ? " 

"That's just what I'd like to know," answered 1. "I couldn't 
keep up, and was left behind, and have been lost all day. But where 
have you been ? I haven't seen you this many a day." 

" Well," said he, as he brought his gun down to a rest, and leaned 
his two hands on the muzzle, "you see the Johnnies spoiled my good 
looks a little, back there in the wilderness, and I was sent to the hospi- 
tal. But I couldn't stand it there, wounded and dying men all around 
one ; and concluded to shoulder my gun and start out and try to find 
the boys. Look here," continued he, taking off a bandage from the 
side of his face and displaying an ugly-looking bullet hole in his right 
cheek. " See that hole ? It goes clean through, and I can blow 
through it. But it don't hurt very much, and will no doubt heal up 
before the next fight. Anyhow, I have the chunk of lead that made 
that hole here in my jacket pocket. See that ! " said he, taking out a 
flattened ball from his vest pocket, and rolling it around in the palm 
of his hand. "Lodged in my mouth, right between my teeth. But 
I'm tired nearly to death, tramping around all day. Let's put up 
for the night. Shall we strike up a tent, or bunk down here under the 
pines ? " 

We concluded to put up a shelter, or rather, I should say, Harter 
did so ; for I was too sick and weak to think of anything but sleep 
and rest, and lay there at full length on a bed of soft pine shatters, 



184 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

dreamily watching the sergeant's preparations for the night. Throw- 
ing off his knapsack, haversack, and accoutrements, he took out his 
hatchet, trimmed away the lower branches of two pine saplings which 
stood some six feet apart, cut a straight pole, and laid it across from 
one to the other of these saplings, buttoned together two shelters and 
threw them across the ridgepole, staked them down at the corners, and 
throwing in his traps, exclaimed, — 

" There you are, ' as snug as a bug in a rug.' And now for water, 
fire, and a supper." 

A fire was soon and easily built, for dry wood was plenty ; and 
soon the flames were crackling, and lighting up the dusk}^ woods. 
Taking our two canteens, Harter started off in search of water, 
leaving me to stretch myself out in the tent, and — heartily wish 
myself at home. 

For soldiering is all well enough so long as one is strong and well. 
But when a man gets sick he is very likely to find that all the romance 
of marching by day and camping by night is suddenly gone, and that 
there is, after all, no place like home. For one, I was fully conscious 
of this as I lay there in the tent, awaiting the sergeant's return. The 
sounds which came to my ears from the woods, all around me, — of 
strong men's voices, some shouting and some conversing in low tones ; 
the noise of axes and of falling trees ; the busy, bee-like hum, losing 
itself amongst the trees and in the far distance ; the bright glare of 
the many fires, and the dancing lights and shadows which seemed to 
people the forest with ghostlike forms, — all this, although at another 
time it would have had a singular charm, now awakened no response in 
me. One draught of water at the "Big Spring" at home, which I knew 
at that very moment was gushing, cool, and clear as crystal, out of the 
hillside, and on the bottom of which I could in vision see the white 
pebbles lying, would have been worth to me all, and more than all, 
the witchery of our bivouac for the night. And I would have given 




GENERAL GKANT CAN'T HAVE ANY OF THIS WATER. 



A BIVOUAC FOR THE NIGHT. 187 

more for a bed on the hard floor on the landing at the head of the 
stairs at home — I would not have asked for a bed — than for a 
dozen nights spent in the finest camps in the Army of the Potomac. 
But the thought of the " Big Spring " troubled me most. It seemed 
to me that I could see it with my eyes shut, and that I could hear the 
water as it came gushing out of the hillside and flowed to the meadow, 
plashing and rippling — 

" I tell you, Harry," said the sergeant, suddenly interrupting my 
vision as he stepped into the circle of light in front of our little tent, 
and flung down his canteens, " there isn't anything like military disci- 
pline. I went down the road here about a quarter of a mile, and came 
out near General Grant's headquarters, in a clearing. Down at the 
foot of a hill, right in front of his headquarters, is a spring ; but it 
seems the surgeon of some hospital near by had got there before the 
general, and had placed a guard on the spring, to keep the water for 
the wounded. As I came up, I heard the guard say to a darky, who 
had come to the spring for water, with a bucket, — 

" ' Get out of that, you black rascal ; you can't have any water 
here.' 

'"Guess I kin,' said the darky. 'I want dis yere water for Gen'l 
Grant ; an' ain't he a commandin' dis yere army, or am you ? ' 

" ' You touch that water, and I'll run my bayonet through you,' said 
the guard. ' General Grant can't have any water at this spring till 
my orders are changed.' 

" The darky, saying that he'd ' see 'bout dat mighty quick,' went 
up the hill to headquarters, and returned in a few moments declaring 
that, — 

" ' Gen'l Grant said dat you got to gib me water outen dis yere , 
spring.' 

" ' You go back and tell General Grant, for me,' said the corporal 
of the guard, who came up at the moment, ' that neither he nor any 



188 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

other general in the Army of the Potomac can get water at this spring 
till my orders are changed.' 

" Now, yon see," continned Harter, as he gave me a tin cup on a 
stick to hold over the fire for coffee, while he cut down a slice of pork, 
" there's something mighty fine in the idea of a man standing to his 
post thougli the heavens fall, and obeying the orders given him when 
he is put on guard, so that even though the greatest generals in the 
army send down contrary orders to him, he'll die before he'll give in. 
A man is mighty strong when he is on guard and obeys orders. 
Though he's only a corporal, or even a private, he can command the 
general commanding the army. But I don't believe General Grant 
sent that darky for water a second time." 

Supper was soon ready, and soon disposed of. Then, without 
further delay, while the shadows deepened into thick night in the 
forest, we rolled ourselves up in our blankets and stretched ourselves 
out with our feet to the fire. Dreamily watching the blazing light of 
our little camp fire, and thinking each his own thoughts of things 
which had been and things which might be, we both soon fell sound 
asleep. 



I 



CHAPTER XIX. 

" WENT DOWN TO JERICHO AND FELL AMONG THIEVES." 

On the morning of May 23d, 1864, after a good and refreshing 
sleep, we took up the line of march and moved rapidly all day in a 
southerly direction, " straight for Richmond," according to our some- 
what bewildered conception of the geography of those parts. With 
the exception of an occasional skirmish and some heavy cannonading 
away along the horizon, we had seen and heard but little of the enemy 
for several days. Where he was we did not know. We only hoped 
that, after the terrible fighting of the last two weeks, commencing at 
the Wilderness on the fifth, he had had enough of it and had taken to 
his heels and run away, — 

" Away down South in Dixie's land, 
Away, away," 

and that we should never again see anything of him but his back, 
Alas! for the presumption. And alas! for the presumption of the 
innumerable company and fellowship of cooks, camp-followers, and 
mule-drivers, who, emboldened by the quietude of the last few days, 
had ventured to come up from the rear, and had joined each his 
respective regiment, and were marching along bravely enough, as on 
the evening of this same May 23d we approached North Anna River, 
which we were to cross at a place called Jericho Ford. As we came 
near to the river, we found the supply and ammunition trains 
" parked " to the rear of a wood a short distance from Jericho, so that 
as we halted for a while in the edge of the woods nearest to the 
stream, everything wore so quiet and unsuspicious a look, that no one 

189 



190 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

dreamed of the enemy being anywhere near at hand. Under the 
impression that we should probabl}'^ halt there for the night, I gathered 
up a number of the boys' canteens and started out in search of water, 
taking my course toward an open meadow which lay to the right and 
close to the river's edge. There was a cornfield off to the left, across 
which I could see the troops leisurely marching in the direction of the 
bridge. As I stooped down to fill my canteens, another man came uj) 
on the same errand as had brought me there. From where I was, I 
could see the bridge full of troops and the general rabble of camp 
followers carelessly crossing. But scarcely had I more than half 
filled my first canteen, when the enemy, lying concealed in the woods 
on the other side of the river, opened fire. 

Boom ! Bang ! Whir-r-r ! Chu-ck ! 

"• Hello ! " said I to my companion, "the ball is going to open ! " 

" Yes," answered he with a drawl and a certain supercilious look, 
as if to intimate that few besides himself had ever heard a shell crack 
before — " Yes ; but when you have heard as many shells busting 
about your head as I have " — 

Whir-r-r ! Chu-ck ! I could hear the terrific shriek of the shell 
overhead, and the sharp thud of the pieces as they tore up the meadow 
sod to the right and left of us ; whereupon my brave and boastful 
friend, leaving his sentence to be completed and his canteens to be 
filled some other day, cut for the rear at full speed, ducking his head 
as he went. Finding an old gateway near by, with high stone posts 
on either side, I took refuge there ; and feeling tolerably safe behind 
my tall defence, turned about and looked towards the river. It is said 
that there is but a step from the sublime to the ridiculous ; and surely 
laughable indeed was the scene which greeted my eyes. Everything 
was in confusion, and all was helter-skelter, skurry, and skedaddle. 
There was the bridge in open view, full of a struggling mass of men, 
horses, and mules, — the troops trying to force their way over to the 



" WENT DOWN TO JERICHO:' 



191 



other side, and the yelling crowd of camj-) followers equally bent on 
forcing their way back ; some jumping or being tumbled off the bridge, 
while others were swept, nolens volens, over to the other side, and 
there began to plunge into the dirty ooze of the stream, with the 
evident intention of getting on the safe side of things as speetu.^ as 
possible, while all the time the shells flew shrieking and screaming 



-ife- 




lough the air as though the demons had been 
loose. Between me and the river was a 
year's cornfield, over which the rabble now 
came swift and full, fear furnishing wings to 
flight, — and happy indeed was he who had no 
mule to take care of ! One poor 
^^^^r ,j^ fellow who had had his mule heavily 
laden with camp equipage when he 
crossed over, was now making for 
tiie rear with Ins mule at a full trot, but in sad plight himself; 
for he was hatless, covered with mud, and quite out of breath, 
had lost saddle, bag, and baggage, and had nothing left but himself, 
the mule, and the halter. Another, immediately in front of me, 
had come ou well enough until he arrived in the middle of the 
open field, where the shells were falling rather thick, when his 



192 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

mule took it into his head that flight was disgraceful, and that he 
would retreat no farther, — no, not an inch. There he stood like a 
rock, the poor driver pulling at his halter, and frantically kicking the 
beast in the ribs, but all to no avail ; while all around him, and past 
him, swept the crowd of his fellow cooks and coffee coolers in full 
flight for the rear. 

As soon as the firing began to cease a little, I started off for the 
regiment, which had meanwhile changed position. In searching for 
it I passed the forage and ammunition trains, which were parked 
to the rear of the woods, and within easy range of the enemy's guns ; 
which latter fact the enemy, fortunately, did not know. One who has 
not actually seen them, can scarcely form any adequate idea of the 
vast numbers of white-covered wagons which followed our armies, 
carrying food, forage, and ammunition ; nor can any one who has not 
actually witnessed a panic among the drivers of these wagons form 
any conception of the terror into which they were sometimes thrown. 
The drivers of the ammunition wagons were especially anxious to keep 
well out of range of shells, — and no wonder ! For if a shot from the 
enemy's guns were to fall amongst a lot of wagons laden with 
percussion shells, the result may perhaps be imagined. It was no 
wonder, therefore, that the driver of an ammunition wagon, with six 
mules in front of him and several tons of death and destruction 
behind him, felt somewhat nervous when he heard the whirr of the 
shells over the tops of the pines. 

In searching for the regiment, I passed one of these trains. A 
commissary-sergeant was dealing out forage to his men, who were 
standing around him in a circle, each holding open a bag for his oats, 
which the commissary was alternately dealing out to them with 
a bucket, — a bucketful to this man, then to the next, and so on 
around tlie circle. It was plain, however, to any observer, that he was 
more concerned about the shells than interested in the oats, for he 



" WENT DO WN TO JEIilCHOr 19S 

dodged his head every time a shell cracked, wliicli hapj)eiied just 
about the time he was in the act of pouring a bucketful of oats into 
a bag. 

While I was looking at them, Page, a Michigan boy, who was well 
known to me, came up on his horse in search of our division forage 
train, for he was orderly to our brigadier-general, and wanted oats for 
his horses. Stopping a moment to contemplate the scene I was 
admiring, he said, — 

" You just keep an eye on m'y horse a minute, will you, and I'll 
show you how T get oats for my horses when forage is scarce." 

It was very often a difficult matter for the mounted oflicers to get 
forage for their horses ; for our movements were so many and so 
sudden, that it was plainly impossible for the trains to follow us wher- 
ever we went. Often, when we halted at night, the wagons were 
miles and miles away from us, and sometimes we did not get a sight 
of them for a week, or even longer. Then the poor hard-ridden horses 
would have to suffer. But it was well known that Page could get 
oats when nobody else could. Though the wagon trains were many 
miles in the rear, Page seldom permitted his horses to go to bed sup- 
perless. Though an American by birth, he was a Spartan in craft, and 
had a wit as keen and sharp as a razor. It was said, that rather than 
have his horses go without their allowance he would, if necessary, sit 
up half the night, after a hard day's march, and wait till everybody 
else was sound asleep, and then quietly slip from under the heads of 
the orderlies of other commands the very oat bags which, in order to 
guard them the more securely, they were using for their pillows ; 
for oats Page would have for the general's horse, by hook or by 
crook. 

"You see the commissary, yonder?" said Page to me, in a half 
whisper, as he dismounted, and threw an empty bag over his arm and 
gave his waist belt a hitch : " he's a coward, he is. Look at him, how 



194 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

he jukes his head at every crack of the cannon ! Don't know whether 
he's dealing out oats to the right man or not. Just you keep an eye 
on my horse, will you ? " 

Now Page had no right in the least to draw forage rations there, 
for that was not our division train. But as he did not know where 
our division train was, and as all the oats belonged to Uncle Sam 
anyhow, why, where was the harm of getting your forage wherever 
you could ? 

Pushing his way into the circle of teamsters, who were too much 
engaged in watching for shells to notice the presence of a stranger, 
Page boldly opened his bag, while Mr. Commissary, ducking his head 
between his shoulders at every boom of the guns, poured four bucket- 
fuls of oats into the bag of the new comer; whereupon Page shoul- 
dered his prize, mounted his horse, and rode away with a smile on his 
face, which said, as plainly as could be, " That's the way to do it, 
my lad!" 

In the wild mel^e of that May evening, there at Jericho, — where, 
evidently, we had all fallen among thieves, — there was no little 
confusion as to the rights of property ; meum and timm got sadly 
mixed ; some horses had lost their owners, and some owners had lost 
their horses ; and the same was the case with the mules. So that by 
the time things began to get quiet again, some of the boys had picked 
up stray horses, or bought them for a mere song. On coming up with 
the regiment, I found that Andy had just concluded a bargain of this 
sort. He had bought a sorrel horse. The animal was a great, raw- 
boned, ungainly beast, built after the Gothic style of horse archi- 
tecture, and would have made an admirable sign for a feed store up 
North, as a substitute for " Oats wanted ; inquire within." However, 
when I came up Andy had already concluded the bargain, and had 
become the sole owner and proprietor of the sorrel horse, for the small 
consideration of ten dollars. 



" imJNT DOWN TO JERICHOy 



195 



" Why, Andy ! " exclaimed I, "• what in the name of all conscience 
do you want with a horse ? Going to join the cavalry ? " 

"Well," said Andy, with a grin, "1 took him on a speculation. 
Going to feed him up a little — " 

" Glad to hear it," said I ; " he needs it sadly." 

"Yes; going to feed him up and then sell him to somebody, and 




"ANDY HAD BOUGHT THE SORREL FOR TEN DOLLARS." 

double my money on him, you see. You may ride him on the march 
and carry our traps. I guess the colonel will give you permission. 
And, you know, that would be a capital arrangement for you, for you 
are so sick and weak that you are often left behind on the march." 

" Thank you, old boy," said I with a shrug. " You always were a 
good, kind, thoughtful soul ; but if the choice must be between joining 



196 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

the general cavalcade of coffee-coolers on this old barebones of yours 
and marching afoot, I believe I'd prefer the infantry." 

However, we tied a rope around the neck of Bonaparte^ as we 
sio-nificantly called him, fastened him up to a stake, rubbed him down, 
begged some oats of Page, and pulled some handfuls of young grass 
for him, and so left him for the night. 

I do not think Andy slept well that night. How could he after so 
bold a dash into the horse market ? Grotesque images of the wooden 
horse of ancient Troy, and of Don Quixote on his celebrated Rosinante, 
charging the windmills, were no doubt hopelessly mixed up in his 
dreams with wild vagaries of General Grant at the head of Mosby's 
men, fiercely trying to force a passage across Jericho Ford. For day- 
light had scarcely begun to peep into the forest the next morning, 
when Andy rolled out from under the blankets and went to look after 
Bonaparte. I was building a fire when he came back. It seemed to 
me that he looked a little solemn. 

" How's "Bony this morning, Andy ? " inquired I. 

Andy whistled a bit, stuck his hands into his pockets, mounted a 
log, took off his cap, made a bow, and said, — 

" Comrades and fellow-citizens, lend me your ears, and be silent 
that you may hear ! This is my first and last speculation in horse- 
flesh. Bony is gone. 

It was indeed true. We had fallen among thieves, and they had 
even baffled Andy's plan for' future money making; for none of us 
ever laid eyes on Bony again. 



CHAPTER XX. 

IN THE FKONT AT PETERSBURG. 

'' Andy, let's go a-swimming." 

" Well, Harry, I don't know about that. I'd like to take a good 
pliinge ; but, you see, there's no tellmg how soon we may move." 

It was the afternoon of Tuesday, June 14, 1864, We had been 
marching and fighting almost continually for five weeks and more, 
from the Wilderness to Spottsylvania, over the North Anna, in at 
Cold Harbor, across the Pamunky and over the Chickahominy to the 
banks of the James River, about a mile and a half from which we were 
now lying, along a dusty road. We were sunburned, covered with 
dust, and generally used up, so that a swim in the river would be a 
refreshment indeed. 

Having learned from one of the officers that the intention evidently 
was to remain where we then were until the entire corps should come 
up, and that we should probably cross the river at or somewhere near 
that point, we resolved to risk it. 

So, over a cornfield we started at a good pace. We had not gone 
far, when we discovered a mule tied up in a clump of bushes, with a 
rope around his neck. And this long-eared animal, as Gothic as 
Bonaparte in his style of architecture, we decided, after a solemn 
council of war, to declare contraband, and forthwith we impressed him 
into service, intending to return him, after our bath, on our way back 
to camp. Untying Bucephalus from the bush, we mounted, Andy in 
front and I on behind, each armed with a switch, and we rode along 
gayly enough, with our feet dangling among the corn stalks. 

For a while all went well. We fell to talking about the direction 

197 



198 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

we had come since leaving the Pamunky ; and Andy, who was usuall}' 
such an authority on matters geographical and astronomical that on 
the march he was known in the company as "the compass," confessed 
to me as we rode on that he himself had been somewhat turned about 
in that march over the Chickahominy swamp. 

"And as for me," said I, "I think this is the awfullest country to 
get turned about in that I ever did see. Why, Andy, while we were 
lying over there in the road it seemed to me that the sun was going 
down in the east. Fact ! But when I took my canteen and went 
over a little ridge to the rear to look for water for coffee, I found, on 
looking up, that on that side of the ridge the sun was all right. Yet 
when I got back to the road and looked around, judge of my surprise 
when I found the whole thing had somehow swung around again, and 
the sun was going down in the east ! And you may judge still further 
of my surprise, Andy, when, on going and walking back and forth 
across that ridge, I found one particular spot from which, if I looked 
in one direction, the sun was going down all right in the west ; but 
if in the opposite direction, he was going down all wrong, entirely 
wrong, in the east ! " 

" Whoa dar ! Whoa dar ! Whar you gwine wid dat dar mule o' 
mine ? Whoa, Pete ! " 

The mule stopped stock still as we caught sight of the black head 
and face of a darky boy peering forth from the door of a tobacco 
house that we were passing. Possibly, he was the owner of the whole 
plantation now, and the mule Pete might be his only live stock. 

" Where are we going, Pompey ? Why, we're going ' on to 
Richmond ! ' " 

" On ter Richmon' ! An' wid dat dar mule o' mine ! 'Clar to 
goodness, sodgers can't git along widout dat mule. Better git off'u 
dat dar mule ! " 

" Whip him up, Andy ! " shouted L 



7.Y THE FKO^^T AT PETERSBURG. 



199 



" Come lip, Buceiibahis ! " shouted Andy. 

And we both hiid on right lustily. But never an inch would that 
miserable mule budge from the position he had taken on hearing the 
darky's voice, until all of a sudden, and as if a mine had been sprung 




"better git OFF'N DAT DAR MULE!" 



under our feet, there was such a striking out of heels and such an 
uncomfortable elevation in the rear, the angle of which was only 
increased by increased cudgelling, that, at last, with an enormous 
spring, Andy and I were sent flying off into the corn. 



200 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

" Yi I yi I yi ! Didn' I say better git off'n dat dar mule o' mine ? 
Yi ! yi ! yi ! " 

Laughing as heartily as the darky at our misadventure, we felt that 
it would be safer to make for the river afoot. We liad a glorious 
plunge in the waters of the James, and returned to the regiment at 
sunset, greatly refreshed. 

The next day we crossed the James in steamboats. There were 
thousands of men in blue all along both shores ; some were crossing, 
some were already over, and others were awaiting their turn. By the 
middle of the forenoon we .were all well over, and it has been said that 
had we pushed on without delay, the story of the siege of Petersburg 
would have read quite differently. But we waited, — for provisions, I 
believe, — and during this halt the whole corps took a grand swim in 
the river. We marched off at three o'clock in the afternoon, over a 
dusty road and without fresh water, and reached the neighborhood 
of Petersburg at midnight ; but did not get into position until after 
several days of hard fighting in the woods. 

It would be impossible to give a clear and interesting account of 
the numerous engagements in which we took part around that long 
beleagured city, where for ten months the two great armies of the 
North and South sat down to watch and fight each other until the end 
came. For, after days and days of manoeuvring and fighting, attack 
and sally, it became evident that Petersburg could not be carried by 
storm, and there was nothing for it but to sit down stubbornly, and, 
by cutting off all railroad supplies and communications, starve it into 
surrender. 

It may be interesting, however, to tell something of the everyday 
life and experience of our soldiers during that great siege. 

Digging becomes almost an instinct with the experienced soldier. 
It is surprising how rapidly men in the field throw up fortifications, 
how the work progresses, and what immense results can be accom- 



m THE FRONT AT PETERSBURG. 203 

plished by a body of troops in a single Jiig-ht. Let two armies fight in 
the open field one evening. Vij the next morning both are strongly 
intrenched behind rifle-pits and breastworks, which it will cost either 
side much blood to storm and take. If spades and picks are at hand 
when there is need of fortifications, well ; if not, bayonets, tin cnps, 
plates, even jackknives, are pressed into service until better tools 
arrive ; and every man works like a beaver. 

Thus it was that although throughout the eighteenth of June the 
fighting had been severe, yet, in spite of weariness and darkness, we 
set to work, and the morning found us behind breastworks ; these we 
soon so enlarged and improved that they became well-nigh impregna- 
ble. At that part of the line where our regiment was stationed, we 
built solid works, of great pine logs, rolled up, log on log, seven feet 
high, and banked with earth on the side toward the enemy, the whole 
being ten feet through at the base. On the inside of these breast- 
works we could walk about, perfectly safe from the enemy's bullets, 
which usually went singing harmlesly over our heads. 

On the outside of these works were further defeiices. First, there 
was the ditch made by throwing up the ground against the logs ; then, 
farther out, about twenty or thirty yards away, was the abatis — 
a peculiar means of defence, made by cutting off the tops and heavy 
limbs of trees, sharpening the ends, and planting them firmly in the 
ground, in a long row, the sharpened ends pointing toward the enemy, 
the whole being so close, and so compacted together with telegraph 
wires, everywhere twisted in, that it was impossible for a line of battle 
to get through it without being cut off to a man. Here and there, at 
intervals, were left gaps wide enough to admit a single man, and it 
was through these man-holes that the pickets passed out to their pits 
beyond. 

Fifty yards in front of the abatis the pickets were stationed. 
When first the siege began, picketing was dangerous business. Both 



204 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

ju-mies were bent on fight, and picketing meant simply sharpsliooting. 
As a consequence, at first the pickets were posted only at night, so 
that from midnight to midnight the poor fellows lay in their rifle-pits, 
under a broiling July sun, with no protection from the intolerable 
lieat excepting the scanty shade of a little pine brush, erected over- 
liead, or in front of the pit as a screen. There the picket lay, flat on 
his face, picking off the enemy's men whenever he could catch sight of 
a head, or even so much as a hand ; and right glad would he be if, 
when the long-awaited relief came at length, he had no wounds 
to show. 

But later on, as the siege progressed, this murderous state of affairs 
gradually disappeared. Neither side found it pleasant or profitable, 
and nothing was gained by it. It decided nothing, and only Avasted 
powder and ball. And so, gradually the pickets on both sides began 
to be on quite friendly terms. It was no unusual thing to see a 
Johnny picket — who would be posted scarcely a hundred yards away, 
so near were the tines — lay down his gun, wave a piece of white 
paper, as a signal of truce, walk out into the neutral ground between 
the picket lines, and meet one of our own pickets, who, also dropping 
his gun, would go out to inquire what Johnny might want to-day. 

" Well, Yank, I want some coffee, and I'll trade tobacco for it." 

" Has any of you fellows back there some coffee to trade for 
tobacco ? ' Johnny Picket,' here, wants some coffee." 

Or, maybe he wanted to trade papers, a Richmond Enquirer for a 
New York Herald or Tribune, "even up, and no odds." Or he only 
wanted to talk about the news of the day — how "we 'uns whipped 
you 'uns up the valley the other day " ; or how " if we had Stonewall 
Jackson yet, we'd be in Washington before winter " ; or maybe he 
on-ly wished to have a friendly game of cards ! 

There was a certain chivalrous etiquette developed through this 
social intercourse of deadly foemen, and it was really admirable. 




SOEJSE 



AMONG THE illFLE-riTS BEFOKE PETERSBURG. 



IN THE FliONT AT FETERSBURG. 207 

Seldom was there breach of confidence ou either side. It would have 
gone hard with the comrade who should have ventured to shoot down 
a man in gray who had left his gun and come out of his pit under the 
sacred protection of a piece of white paper. If disagreement ever 
occurred in bartering, or high words arose in discussion, shots were 
never fired until due notice had been given. And I find mentioned 
in one of my old army letters that a general fire along our entire front 
grew out of some disagreement on the picket line about trading coffee 
for tobacco. The two pickets couldn't agree, jumped into their pits, 
and began firing, the one calling out : " Look out, Yank, here comes 
your tobacco." Bang ! 

And the other replying, — " All right, Johnny, here comes your 
coffee." Bang I 

Great forts stood at intervals all along the line as far as the eye 
could see, and at these the men toiled day and night all summer long, 
adding defence to defence, and making " assurance doubly sure," until 
the forts stood out to the eye of the beholder, with their sharp angles 
and well-defined outlines, formidable structures indeed. Without 
attempting to describe them in technical military language, I will 
simply ask you to imagine a piece of level ground, say two hundred 
feet square, surrounded by a bank of earth about twenty feet in 
height, with rows of gabions ^ and sand bags arranged on top of the 
embankment, and at intervals along the sides, embrasures or port-holes, 
at which the great cannon were planted, — and you will have some 
rough notion of what one of our forts looked like. Somewhere within 
the inclosure, usually near the centre of it, was the magazine, where 
the powder and shells were stored. This was made by digging a deep 
place something like a cellar, covering it over with heavy logs, and 
piling up earth and sand bags on the logs, the whole, when finished, 
having the shape of a small round-topped pyramid. At the rear was 

1 Bottomless wicker baskets, used to strengthen earth-works. 



208 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

left a small passage, like a cellar-way, and through this the ainnuini- 
tion was brought up. If ever the enemy could succeed in dropping a 
shell down that little cellar door, or in otherwise piercing the maga- 
zine, then good by to the fort and all and everybody in and around it I 

On the outside of each large fort tliere were, of course, all the 
usual defences of ditch, abatis,, and chevaux-de-frise, to render approach 
very dangerous to the enemy. 

The enemy had fortifications like ours, — long lines of breastworks, 
with great forts at commanding positions ; and the two lines were so 
near that, standing in one of our forts, I could have carried on a con- 
versation with a man in the fort opposite. I remember, while on the 
picket-line one evening, watching a body of troops moving along the 
edge of a wood within the enemy's works, and quite easily distinguish- 
ing the color of their uniforms. 

I have said already that, inside of our breastworks, one was quite 
secure against the enemy's bullets. But bullets were not the only 
things we had to look out for, — there were the shell, the case-shot, 
and I know not what shot besides. Every few hours these would be 
dropped behind our breastworks, and often much execution was done 
by them. To guard against these missiles, each mess built what was 
called a " bomb-proof," which consisted of an excavation about six feet 
square by six deep, covered with heavy logs, the logs covered with 
earth, a little back cellar-way being left on the side away from the 
enemy. Into this bomb-proof we could dart the moment the shelling 
began, and be as safe as in our own mother's kitchen. Our shelter- 
tents we pitched on top of the bomb-proof, and in this^ upper story we 
lived most of the time, dropping down occasionally into the cellar. 

Bang ! bang ! bang ! 

" Fall into your pits, boys ! " and in a trice there wasn't so much as 
a blue coat in sight. 

Familiarity breeds contempt, — even of danger ; and sometimes we 



IN THE FRONT AT PETERSBURG. 



209 



were caught. Thus, one day, when there had been no shelling for 
a long time, and we had grown somewhat careless, and were scattered 
about under the trees, some sleeping and others sitting on top of the 
breastworks to get a mouthful of fresh air, all of a sudden the guns of 




,"^- 



THE MAGAZINE WHERE THE POWDER AND SHELLS WERE STORED. 

one of the great forts opposite us opened with a rapid fire, dropping 
shells right among us. Of course there was a " scatteration " as we 
tried to fall into our pits pell-mell ; but, for all our haste, several of us 
were severely hurt. There was a boy from Philadelphia, — I forget 
his name, — sitting on the breastworks writing a letter home ; a piece 



210 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

of shell tore off his arm with the pen in his hand. A lieutenant 
received an iron slug in his back, while a number of other men were 
hurt. And such experiences were of frequent occurrence. 

A great victory had been gained by our cavalry somewhere, I think 
by Sheridan, and one evening an orderly rode along the line to each 
regimental headquarters, distributing despatches containing an account 
of the victory, with instructions that the papers be read to the men. 
Cheers were given all along the line that night, and a shotted salute 
was ordered at daylight the next morning. 

At sunrise every available gun from the Appomattox to the 
Weldon Railroad must have been brought into service and trained 
against the enemy's works, for the noise was terrific. And still further 
to increase the din, the Johnnies, supposing it to be a grand assault 
along the whole line, replied with every gun they could bring to bear, 
and the noise was so great that you would have thought the very 
thunders of doom were rolling. After the firing had ceased, the 
Johnnies were informed that "we have only been giving three iron 
cheers for the victory Sheridan has gained up the valley lately." 
There was, I presume, some regret on the other side over the loss of 
powder and shot. At all events, whenever, after that, similar iron 
cheers were given, and this was not seldom the case, the enemy pre- 
served a moody silence. 

After remaining in our works for about a month, we were relieved 
by other troops and marched off to the left in the direction of the 
Weldon Railroad, which we took after severe fighting. We held it, 
and at once fortified our position with a new line of works, thus cut- 
ting off one of the main lines of communication between Petersburg 
and the South. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

FUN AND FROLIC. 



In what way to account for it I know not, but so it is, that soldiers 
always have been, and I suppose always will be, merry-hearted fellows 
and full of good spirits. One would naturally suppose that, having so 
much to do with hardship and danger every day, they would be sober 
and serious above the generality of men. But such was by no means 
the case with our Boys in Blue. In camp, on the march, nay even in 
the solemn hour of battle, there was ever and anon a laugh passing 
down the line or some sport going on amongst the tents. Seldom was 
there wanting some one noted for his powers of story telling, to beguile 
the weary hours about the camp fire at the lower end of the company 
street, or out among the pines on picket. Few companies could be 
found without some native-born wag or wit, whose comical songs or 
quaint remarks kept the boys in good humor, while at the same time 
each and all, according to the measure of their several capacities, were 
given to playing practical jokes of one kind or other for the general 
enlivenment of the camp. 

There was Corporal Barter, for example, of my own company. I 
do not single him out as a remarkable wit, or in any sense as a shining 
light in our little galaxy of " Boys in Blue " ; but choose him rather 
as an average specimen. More than one was the trick which Harter 
played on Andy and myself — though I cannot help but remember, 
also, that he sometimes had good ground for so doing, as the following 

will show. 

It was while we were yet lying around Washington, during the 



211 



212 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

winter of 1863, that Harter and I one day secured a "pass," and went 
into the city. In passing the Treasury Department we found a twent}^- 
five cent note. We had, at first, a mind to call on tlie Secretary of 
the Treasury and ask whether he had lost it, as we had found it in 
front of his establishment; but thinking that it would not go very 
far toward paying the expenses of the war, and reflecting that even if 
it did belong to Uncle Sam, we belonged to Uncle Sam too, and so 
where could be the harm of our keeping it, and laying it out on our- 
selves? We finally concluded to spend it at a certain print shop on 
Pennsylvania Avenue, where were exposed for sale great numbers of 
colored pictures, of different generals and statesmen, a prize of cheap 
gilt jewelry being given with each picture. For the jewelry we cared 
not a whit ; but the pictures each of us was anxious to possess, for 
they would make very nice decorations for our tents, we thought. 
Having, then, purchased a number of these with our treasure trove, 
and having received from the shopkeeper a handful of brass earrings, 
which neither of us wanted (for what in the world did a soldier want 
with brass earrings, or even with gold ones, for the matter of that ?), 
we took our way to the park, west of the Capitol buildings, and sat 
down on a bench. 

" Now, Harry," said the corporal, as he sat wistfully looking at a 
picture of a general dressed in the bluest of blue uniforms, who, with 
sword drawn and horse at full gallop, dismounted cannon in the rear, 
and clouds of blue smoke in front, was apparently leading his men on 
to the desperate charge. The men had not come on the field jet, but 
it was of course understood, by the general's looks, that they were 
coming somewhere in the background. A. person can't have everything 
in a picture, at the rate of four for a quarter, with a handful of 
earrings thrown in to clinch the bargain, all of which, no doubt, 
passed rapidly through the corporal's mind as he examined the 
pictures. '* Now, Harry, how will we divide 'em ? " 



FUN AND FROLIC. 213 

" Well, corporal," answered I, " suppose we do it in this way : 
we'll toss up a penny for it. ' Heads I win, tails you lose,' you know. 
If it comes head, 111 take the pictures and you'll take the jewelry ; if 
it comes tail, you'll take the jewelry and I'll take the pictures. That's 
fair and square, isn't it?" 

The corporal's head could not have been very clear that morning, 
or he would have seen through this nicely laid little scheme as clearly 
as one can see through a grindstone with a hole in the middle. But 
the proposition was so rapidly announced, and set forth with such an 
appearance of candor and exact justice, that, not seeing the trap laid 
for him, he promptly get out a penny from his pocket, and, balancing 
it on his thumb-nail, while he thoughtfully squinted up toward a tree- 
top near by, said, — 

" I guess that's fair. Here goes — but, hold on ! How is it, now ? 
Say it over again." 

" Why, it's as plain as the nose on your face, man. Don't you see ? 
If it comes head, then I take the pictures and you take the jewelry. 
If it comes tail, then you take the jewelry and I take the pictures. 
Nothing could be plainer than that ; so, flop her up, corporal." 

"All right, Harry. Here she go — . But hold on ! " said he, as a 
new light seemed to dawn on his mind, while he raised his cap, and 
thoughtfully scratched his head. "Let me see. Ah, you young 
rascal ! You're sharp, you are ! Going to gobble up the whole grist 
of illuminated generals and statesmen, and leave me this handful 
of brass earrings and breastpins to send home to the girl I left behind 
me — eh ? " 

But every dog has his day, and whether or not Harter bided his 
time for retaliation, or had quite forgotten about "heads I win, tails 
you lose," by the time we got down into Virginia, yet so it was that in 
more than one camp he gave Andy and myself a world of trouble. 
More than one evening in winter quarters, as we sat about our fire. 



214 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

cartridges were dropped down our chimney by some unseen hand, 
driving us out of our tent in a jiffy ; and it was not seldom that our 
pan of frying hard-tack was sent a flying by a sudden explosion. It 
was wasted breath to ask who did it. 

We were lying in camp near the Rappahannock some time along in 
the fall of 1863, when Andy said one day, — 

" Look here, Harry, let's have some roast beef once. I'm tired of 
this everlasting frying and frizzling, and my mouth just waters for a 
good roast. And I've just learned how to do it, too ; for I saw a fel- 
low over here in another camp at it, and I tell you it's just fine. You 
see, you take your chunk of beef and wrap it up in a cloth or news- 
paper, and then you get some clay and cover it thick all over with the 
clay, until it looks like a big forty pound cannon-ball, and then you 
put it in among the red hot coals, and it bakes hard like a brick ; and 
when it's done you just crack the shell off, and out comes your roast, 
fit for the table of a king." 

We at once set to work, and all went well enough till Harter came 
along that way. While Andy was off for more clay, and I was 
looking after more paper, Harter fumbled around our beef, saying he 
didn't believe we could roast it that way. 

" Just you wait, now," said Andy, coming in with the clay ; " we'll 
show you." 

So we covered our beef thick with stiff clay, and rolled the great 
ball into the camp fire, burying it among the hot ashes and coals, and 
sat down to watch it, while the rest of the boys were boiling their 
coffee and frying their steaks for dinner. The fire was a good one, and 
there were about a dozen black tin cups dangling on as many long 
sticks, their several owners squatting about in a circle, when, all of a 
sudden, with a terrific bang, amid a shower of sparks and hot ashes, 
the coffee boilers were scattered right and left, and a dozen quarts of 
coffee sent hissing and sizzling into the fire. Our poor roast beef was 



FUN AND FROLIC. 215 

a sorry-looking mess indeed when we picked it out of the general 
wreck. 

We always believed that Harter had somehow smuggled a car- 
tridge into that beef of ours, while our backs were turned, and we 
determined to pay liim back in his own coin on the very first favorable 
opportunity. It was a long time, however, before the coveted oppor- 
tunit}^ came ; in fact, it was quite a year afterward, and happened in 
this wise. 

We were lying in front of Petersburg, some little while after the 
celebrated Petersburg mine explosion, of which my readers have no 
doubt often heard. We were playing a game of chess one day, Andy 
and I, behind the iiigh breastworks. Our chessmen we had whittled 
out of soft white pine with our jack knives. I remember we were 
at first puzzled to know how to distinguish our men ; for, all being 
whittled out of white pine, both sides were of course alike white, and 
it was impossible to keep them from getting sadly confused during the 
progress of the game. At length, however, we hit on the expedient of 
staining one half of our men with tincture of iodine, which we begged 
of the surgeon, and then they did quite well. Our kings we called 
generals, — one Grant, the other Lee ; the knights were cavalry ; the 
castles, forts ; the bishops, chaplains ; and the pawns, Yanks and Johnny 
Rebs. We were deep in a game of chess with these our men one day, 
when Andy suddenly broke a long silence by saying, — ■ 

" Harry, do you remember how Harter blew up our beef-roast last 
year, down there along the Rappahannock? And don't you think it's 
pretty nearly time we should pay him back ? Because if you do, I've 
got a plan for doing it." 

" Yes, Andy, I remember it quite well ; but then, you know, we 
are not quite sure he did it. Besides, he was corporal then, and he's 
captain now, and he might play the mischief with us if he catches us 
at any nice little game of that sort." 



216 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

" Oh, pshaw ! " exchaimed Andy, as he threw out his cavalry on 
my right flank. "He won't find out; and if he does, 'all's fair in love, 
war, and controversy,' you know, and I'm sure we can rely on his good 
nature, even if he does get a little riled." 

On examining into matters at the conclusion of the game, we found 
that the captain was on duty somewhere, and that, so far, the coast 
was clear. Entering his tent, we found a narrow bunk of poles on 
either side, with an open space of several feet between the two. Here, 
while Andy set out in search of ammunition, I was set to digging a 
six-inch square hole in the ground, into which we emptied the powder 
of a dozen cartridges, covering all carefully with earth, and laying a 
long train, or running fuse, out of the rear of the tent. 

When Harter came in for dinner, and was comfortably seated on 
his bunk with his cup of bean soup on his knee, suddenly there was a 
fiz-z-z and a boom ! and Harter came dashing out of his tent, covered 
with gravel and bespattered with bean soup, to the great merriment of 
the men, who instantly set up shouts of, — 

" Fall in your pits ! " 

" Petersburg mine explosion ! " 

" 'Nother great Union victory ! " 

Did he gret cross? Well, it was natural he should feel a little 
vexed when the fur was so rudely brushed the wrong way ; but he 
tried not to show it, and laughed along with the rest ; for in war, as in 
peace, a man must learn to join in a laugh at his own expense some- 
times, as well as to make merry over the mishaps ^of others. 

A famous and favorite kind of sport, especially when we had been 
long lying in camp in summer, or were in quarters in winter, was 
what was commonly known as " raiding the sutler." 

We heard a great deal in those days about " raids." We read in 
the newspapers which occasionally fell into our hands, or heard on the 



FUN AND FROLIC. 217 

picket-line, of raids into Maryland and raids into Pennsylvania, some- 
times by Mosby's men, and sometimes by Stuart's cavalry ; and it was 
quite natural, when growing weary of the dull monotony of camp life, 
to look around for some one to raid. Very often the sutler was the 
chosen victim. He was selected, not because he was a civilian and 
wore citizen's clothes, but chiefly because of what seemed to the boys 
the questionable character of his pursuit, — making money out of the 
soldiers. "Here we are," — for so the men would reason — "here we 
are, — left home and took our lives in our hands — in for 'three years 
or sooner shot ' — get thirteen dollars a month and live on hard-tack ; 
and over there is that sutler, at whose shop a man may spend a whole 
month's pay and hardly get enough to make a single good meal — it'r 
a confounded mean business ! " 

The sutler seldom enjoyed much respect, as how could he when he 
flourished and fattened on our hungry stomachs ? Of course, if a man 
spent the whole of his month's pay for ginger-cakes and sardines, why 
it was his own fault. He did not need to spend his money if he did 
not choose to do so. But it was hardly in human nature to live on 
pork, bean-soup and hard-tack day after day, and not feel the mouth 
water at the sight of the sutler's counter, with its array of delicacies, 
poor and common though they were. Besides, the sutler usually 
charged most exorbitant prices — two ginger-cakes for five cents, four 
apples for a quarter, eighty cents for a small can of condensed milk, 
and ninety for a pound of butter, which Andy usually denounced in 
vigorous Biblical terms as being as strong as Samson and as old as 
Methuselah. Maybe the sutler's charges were none too high, when his 
many risks were duly considered ; for he was usually obliged to trans- 
port his goods a great distance, over almost impassable roads, and was 
often liable to capture by the enemy's foraging parties, besides being 
exposed to numerous other fortunes of war, whereb}'" he might lose his 
all in an hour. But soldiers in search of sport were not much dis- 



218 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMEB BOY. 

posed to take a just and fair view of all his eircumstances. What they 
saw was only this — that they wanted somebody to raid, and who 
could be a fitter subject than the sutler ? 

The sutler's establishment was a large wall tent, usually iDitched 
on the side of the camp farthest away from the colonel's quarters. It 
was therefore in a somewhat exposed and tempting position. When- 
ever it was thought well to raid him, the men of his own regiment 
M^ould usually enter into a contract with those of some neighboring 
regiment, — 

" You fellows come over here some night and raid our sutler, and 
then we'll come over to your camp some night and raid your sutler. 
Will you do it ? " 

It was generally agreed to, this courteous offer of friendly offices ; 
and great, though indescribable, was the sport which often resulted. 
For when all had been duly arranged and made ready, some dark 
night, when the sutler was sleeping soundly in his tent, a skirmish 
line from the neighboring regiment would cautiously pick its way 
down the hill, and through the brush, and silently surround the tent. 
One part}^ creeping close in by the wall of the tent, would loosen the 
ropes and remove them from the stakes on the one side, while another 
party, on the other side, at a given signal, would pull the whole con- 
cern down over the sutler's head. And then would arise yells and 
cheers for a few moments, followed by immediate silence as the raiding 
party would steal quietly away. 

Did they steal his goods ? Very seldom ; for soldiers are not 
thieves, and plunder was not the object, but only fun. Why did not 
the officers punish the men for doing this? Well, sometimes they did. 
But sometimes the officers believed the sutler to be exorbitant in his 
charges and oppressive to the men, and cared little how soon he was 
cleared out and sent a packing ; and therefore they enjoyed the sport 
quite as well as the men, and often did as Nelson did when he put his 



I 



FUN AND FROLIC. 219 

blind eye to the telescope and declared he did not see the signal to 
recall the fleet. They winked at the frolic, and came on the scene, 
usually, in ample time to condole with the sutler, but quite too late to 
do him any service. 

Thus, once when the sutler was being raided he hastily sent for the 
" officer of the day," whose business it was to keep order in the camp. 
But he was so long in coming, that the boys were in the height of 
their sport when he arrived ; and not wishing to spoil their fun, lie 
gave his orders in two quite different ways, — one in a very loud voice, 
intended for the sutler to hear, and the other in a whisper, designed 
for the boys, — 

(iowJ.) " Get out of this ! Put you all in the guardhouse ! " 

( Whisper.^ " Pitch in, boys ! Pitch in, boys ! " 

The sutler's tent was often a favorite lounging place with the offi- 
cers. One evening early, a party of about a dozen officers were seated 
on boxes and barrels in the sutler's establishment. All of them wanted 
cigars, but no one liked to call for them, for cigars were so dear that 
no one cared about footing the bill for the whole party, and yet could 
not be so impolite as to call for one for himself alone. As they sat 
there, with the flaps of the tent thrown back, they could see quite 
across the camp to the colonel's quarters beyond. 

" Now, boys," said Captain K , " I see the chaplain coming- 
down Company C street, and I think he is coming here ; and if he does 
come here we'll have some fun at his expense. We all want cigars, 
and we might as well confess, what is an open secret, that not one of us 
dares to ciill for a cigar for himself alone, nor feels like footing the bill 
for the whole party. Well, let the sutler set out a few boxes of cigars 
on the counter, so as to have them handy when they are needed, and 
you follow my lead, and we'll see whether we can't, somehow or other, 
make the chaplain yonder pay the reckoning." 

The chaplain in question, be it remembered, made some pretension 



220 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

to literature, and considered himself quite an authority in camp on all 
questions pertaining to orthography, etymology, syntax, and prosody ; 
and presumed to be an umj)ire in all matters which might from time to 
time come into discussion in the realm of letters. So, when he came 
into the sutler's tent, Captain K saluted him with, — 

"■ Good evening, chaplain ; j'ou're just the very man we want to 
see. We've been having a little discussion here, and as we saw you 
coming we thought we'd submit the question to you for decision." 

" Well, gentlemen," said the chaplain, with a smile of gratification, 
" I shall be only too happy to render you what poor assistance I can. 
May I inquire what may be the question under discussion ? " 

" It is but a small thing," replied the captain ; "you might, I sup- 
pose, call it more a matter of taste than anything else. It concerns a 
question of emphasis, or rather, perhaps, of inflection, and it is this : 
Would you say, ' Gentlemen, will you have a cig4r ? ' or ' Gentlemen, 
will you have a cigar ? " ' 

Pushing his hat forward, as he thoughtfully scratched his head, the 
chaplain, after a pause, responded, — 

"Well, there don't seem to be much difference between the two. 
But, on consideration, I believe I would say, ' Gentlemen, will you 
have a cigdr ? ' " 

" Certainly f'' exclaimed they all, in full and hearty chorus, as they 
rushed up to the counter in a body, and each took a handful of cigars, 
with a " Thank you, chaplain," leaving their bewildered literar}' 
umpire to pay the bill, — which, for the credit of his cloth, I believe 
he did. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

CHIEFLY CULINARY. 

It was Frederick the Great, I believe, who said that " An army, 
like a serpent, goes upon its belly ; " which was but another way of 
saying, that if you want men to fight well, you must feed them 

well. 

Of provisions. Uncle Sam usually gave us a sufficiency ; but the 
table to which he invited his boys was furnished with little variety and 
less delicacy. On first entering the service, the drawing of our 
rations was not a small undertaking, for there were nearly a hundred 
of us in the company, and it takes a considerable weight of bread and 
pork to feed a hundred hungry stomachs. But after we had been in 
the field a year or two, the call, " Fall in for your hard-tack ! " was 
leisurely responded to by only about a dozen men, — lean, sinewy, 
hungry-looking fellows, each with his haversack in hand. I can see 
them yet, as they sat squatting around a gum blanket, spread on the 
ground, on which were a small heap of sugar, another of coffee, and 
another of rice, may be, which the corporal was dealing out by suc- 
cessive spoonfuls, as the boys held open their little black bags to 
receive their portion, while near by lay a small piece of salt pork or 
* beef, or possibly a dozen potatoes. 

Much depended, of course, on the cooking of the provisions fur- 
nished us. At first we tried a company cook ; but we soon learned 
that the saying of Miles Standish, — 

" If yoxi wish a thing to be well done, 
You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others! " 
221 



222 BECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

applied to cooking quite as well as to courting. We therefore soon 
dispensed with our cook, and although scarcely any of us knew how to 
cook so much as a cup of coffee when we took the field, a keen appe- 
tite, aided by that necessity which is ever the mother of invention, 
soon taught us how bean soup should be made and hard-tack prepared. 

Hard-tack ! It is a question which I have much debated with my- 
self while writing, whether this chapter should not be entitled " Hard- 
tack." For as this article of diet was the grand staff of life to the 
Boys in Blue, it would seem that but little could be said of the culi- 
nary art in camp without involving some mention of hard-tack at 
almost every turn. 

As I write, there lies before me on my table an innocent-looking 
cracker, which I have faithfully preserved for years. It is about the 
size and has the general appearance of an ordinary soda biscuit. If 
you take it in your hand, you will find it somewhat heavier than an 
ordinary biscuit, and if you bite it — but no ; I will not let you bite it, 
for I wish to see how long I can keep it. But if you were to reduce 
it to a fine powder, you would find that it would absorb considerably 
more water than an equal weight of wheat flour ; showing that in the 
making of hard-tack the chief object in view is to stow away the 
greatest amount of nourishment in the smallest amount of space. 
You will also observe that this cracker is very hard. This you may 
perhaps attribute to its great age. But if you imagine that its age is 
to be measured only by the years which have elapsed since the war, 
you are greatly mistaken ; for there was a common belief among the 
boys that our hard-tack had been baked long before the commence- 
ment of the Christian era ! This opinion was based upon the fact that 
the letters B. C. were stamped on many, if not indeed all, of the 
cracker-boxes. To be sure there were some wiseacres who shook their 
heads, and maintained that these mysterious letters were the initials of 
the name of some army contractor or inspector of supplies ; but the 



CHIEFLY CULINARY. 



223 



belief was widespread and deep-seated that they were without a doubt 
intended to set forth the era in which our bread had been baked. 

For our hard-tack were very hard ; you could scarcely break them 
with your teeth — some of them you could not fracture with your fist. 
Still, as I have said, there was an immense amount of nourishment 




" FALL IN FOR HARD TACK ! ' 



stowed away in them, as we soon discovered when once we had 
learned the secret of getting at it. It required some experience and 
no little hunger to enable one to appreciate hard-tack aright, and it 
demanded no small amount of inventive power to understand how to 
cook hard-tack as they ought to be cooked. If I remember correctly, 
in our section of the army we had not less than fifteen different ways 
of preparing them. In other parts, I understand, they had discovered 



224 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

one or two ways more ; but with us, fifteen was the limit of the culi- 
nary art when this article of diet was on the board. 

On the march they were usually not cooked at all, but eaten in the 
raw state. In order, however, to make them somewhat more pala- 
table, a thin slice of nice fat pork was cut down and laid on the 
cracker, and a spoonful of good brown sugar put on top of the pork, 
and you had a dish fit for a — soldier. Of course the pork had just 
come out of the pickle, and was consequently quite raw ; but fortu- 
• nately we never heard of trichince in those days. I suppose they had 
not yet been invented. When we halted for coffee, we sometimes had 
fricasseed hard-tack — prepared by toasting them before the hot coals, 
thus making them soft and spongy. If there was time for frying, we 
either dropped them into the fat in the dry state and did them brown 
to a turn, or soaked them in cold water and then fried them, or 
pounded them into a powder, mixed this with boiled rice or wheat 
flour, and made griddle-cakes and honey — minus the honey. When, 
as was generally the case on a march, our hard-tack had been broken 
into small pieces in our haversacks, we soaked these. in water and fried 
them in pork fat, stirring well and seasoning with salt and sutler's 
pepper, thus making what was commonly known as " Hishy-hashy, or 
a hot-fired stew." 

But the great triumph of the culinary art in camp, to my mind, 
was a hard-tack pudding. This was made by placing the biscuit in a 
stout canvas bag, and pounding bag and contents with a club on a log, 
until the biscuit were reduced to a fine powder. Then you added a 
little wheat flour, the more the better, and made a stiif dough, which 
was next rolled out on a cracker-box lid, like pie crust. Then you 
covered this all over with a preparation of stewed dried apples, d-rop- 
ping in here and there a raisin or two, just for " auld lang syne's " 
sake. The whole was then rolled together, wrapped in a cloth, boiled 
for an hour or so, and eaten with wine sauce. The wine was, however, 
usually omitted, and hunger inserted in its stead. 



»^ 



CHIEFLY CULIXABY. 225 

. Thus you see what truly vast and unsuspected possibilities reside 
in this innocent looking three-and-a-half-inch-square hard-tack lying 
here on my table before me. Three like this specimen made a meal, 
and nine were a ration ; and this is what fought the battles for the 
Union. 

Tlie army hard-tack had but one rival, and that was the army bean. 
A snuill white roundish soup bean it was, such as you have no doubt 
often seen. It was quite as innocent looking as its inseparable com- 
panion, the hard-tack, and, like it, was possessed of possibilities which 
the uninitiated would never suspect. It was not so plastic an edible 
as the hard-tack, indeed ; that is to say, not capable of entering into 
so niany different combinations, nor susceptible of so wide a range of 
use, but the one great dish which might be made of it was so pre-emi- 
nently excellent, that it threw hishy-hashy and hard-tack pudding 
quite into the shade. This was "baked beans." No doubt bean soup 
was very good, as it was also very common ; but oh, " baked beans !" 

I had heard of the dish before, but had never, even remotely, 
imagined what toothsome delights lurked in the recesses of a camp- 
kettle of beans, baked after the orthodox backwoods fashion, until one 
day Bill Strickland, whose home was in the lumber regions, where the 
dish had no doubt been first invented, said to me, — 

" Come round to our tent to-morrow morning ; we're going to have 
baked beans for breakfast. If jovl will walk around to the lower end 
of 'our company street with me, I'll show you how we bake beans up 
in the country I come from." 

It was about three o'clock in the afternoon, and the boys were 
already busy. They had an immense camp-kettle about two thirds 
full of parboiled beans. Near by they had dug a hole in the ground, 
about three feet square and two deep, in which and on top of which a 
great fire was to be made about dusk, so as to get the hole thoroughly 
heated and full of red-hot coals by the time tattoo sounded. Into this 



226 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

hole the camp-kettle was then set, with several pounds of fat pork on 
the top of the beans, and securely covered with an inverted mess pan. 
It was sunk into the red-hot coals, by which it was completely 
concealed, and was left there all night to bake, one of the camp 
guards throwing a log on the fire from time to time during the night, 
to keep matters agoing. 

Early the next morning some one shook me roughly, as I lay sleep- 
ing soundly in my bunk. 

" Get up, Harry. Breakfast is ready. Come over to our tent. If 
you never ate baked beans before, you never ate anything worth 
eating." 

I found three or four of the boys seated around the camp-kettle, 
each with a tin plate on his knee and a spoon in his hand, doing their 
very best to establish the truth of the adage, that " the proof of tlie 
pudding is in the eating." Now it is a far more difficult matter 
to describe the experiences of the palate than of either the eye or the 
ear, and therefore I shall not attempt to tell the reader how very good 
baked beans are. The only trouble with a camp-kettle full of this 
delicious food was, that it was gone so soon. Where did it get to, 
anyhow ? It was something like Father Tom's quart of drink, " an 
irrational quantity, because it was too much for one, and too little 
for two." 

Still, too much of a good thing is too much ; and one might get 
quite too much of beans (except in the state above described), as you 
will find if you ask some friend or acquaintance who was in the war 
to sing you tlie song of " The Army Bean." And remember, please, 
to ask him to sing ,the refrain to the tune sometimes called " Days of 
Absence," and to pull up sharp on the last word. — 

" Beans for breakfast, 
Beans for dinner. 
Beans for supper. 
Beans!" 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

"hatcher's run." 

While we were yet before Petersburg, two divisions of our corps 
(the Fifth), with two divisions of the Ninth, leaving the line of works 
at tlie Weldon Railroad, were pushed out still farther to the left, with 
the intention of turning the enemy's right flank. 

Starting out, therefore, early on the morning of Thursday, October 
27, 1864, with four days' rations in our haversacks, we moved off 
rapidly by the left, striking the enemy's picket line about ten o'clock. 

"Pop! pop I pop! Boom! boom! boom! We're in for it again, 
boys ; so, steady on the left there, and close up." 

Away into the woods we plunge, in line of battle, through briers 
and tangled undergrowth, beneath the great trees dripping with rain. 
We lose the points of the compass, and halt every now and then to 
close up a gap in the line by bearing off to the right or left. Then 
forward we go through the brush again, steady on the loft and guide 
right, until I feel certain that officers as well as men are getting pretty 
well "into the woods" as to the direction of our advance. It is 
raining, and we have no sun to guide us, and the moss is growing on 
the wrong side of the trees. I see one of our generals, sitting on his 
horse, with his pocket compass on the pommel of his saddle, peering 
around into the interminable tangle of brier and brush, with an 
•expression of no little perplexity. 

Yet still OB, boys, while the pickets are popping away, and the rain 
is pouring, down. The evening falls early and cold, as we come to a 
stand in line of battle, and put up breastworks for the night. 

227 



228 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

We have halted on the slope of a ravine. Minie balls are singing 
over our heads as we cook our coffee, while sounds of axes and falling 
trees are heard on all sides ; and still that merry " z-i-p ! z-i-p ! " goes 
on among the tree-tops, and sings us to sleep at length, as we lie down, 
shivering under our India-rubber blankets, to get what rest we may. 

How long we had slept I did not know, when some one shook me, 
and in a whisper the word passed around, — 

" Wake up, boys ! Wake up, boys ! Don't make any noise, and 
take care your tin cups and canteens don't rattle. We've got to get 
out of this on a double jump ! " 

We were in a pretty fix indeed ! In placing the regiments in posi- 
tion, by some blunder, quite excusable no doubt, in the darkness and 
the tangled forest, we had been unwittingly pushed beyond the main 
line, — were, in fact, quite outside the picket line ! It needed only 
daylight to let the enemy see his game, and sweep us off the boards. 
And daylight was fast coming in the east. 

Long after, a company A boy, who was on picket that night, told 
me that, upon going to the rear somewhere about three o'clock, to cook 
a cup of coffee at a half-extinguished fire, a cavalry picket ordered him 
back within the lines. 

" The lines are not back there ; my regiment is out yonder, in 
front, on skirmish ! " 

" No," said the cavalry man, " our cavalry is the extreme picket- 
line, and our orders are to, send in all men beyond us." 

" Then take me at once to General Bragg's headquarters," said the 
Company A boy. 

When General Bragg learned the true state of affairs, he at once 
ordered out an escort of five hundred men, to bring in our regiment. 

Meanwhile, we were trying to get back of our own accord. 

" This way, men ! " said a voice in a whisper, ahead. 

" This way, men ! " said another voice in the rear. 



''HATCHER'S RUN:' 231 

That we were wandering about vainly in the (hirkness. and under 
no certain leadership, was evident, for I noticed in the dim light that, 
in our tramping about in the tangle, we had twice crossed the same 
fallen tree, and so must have been moving in a circle. 

And now, as the day is dawning in the east, and the enemy's 
pickets see us trying to steal away, a large force is ordered against us, 
and comes sweeping down with yells and whistling bullets, — just as 
the escort of five hundred, with reassuring cheers, comes up from i he 
rear to our support ! 

Instantly, we are in the cloud and smoke of battle. A batter_y of 
artillery, hastily dragged up into position, opens on the charging line 
of gray with grape and canister, while from bush and tree pours back 
and forth the dreadful blaze of musketry. For half an hour the con- 
flict rages fierce and high in the dawning light and under the dripping 
trees, — the officers shouting, and the men cheering and yelling and 
charging, often fighting hand to hand and with bayonets locked in 
deadly encounter, while the air is cut by the whistling lead, and the 
deep bass of the cannon wakes the echoes of the forest. 

But at last the musketry fire gradually slackens, and we find our- 
selves out of danger. 

The enemy's prey has escaped him, and, to the wonder of all, we 
are brought within the lines again, begrimed with smoke, and leaving 
many of our poor fellows dead or wounded on the field. 

Anxiously, every man looked about for his chum and messmates, 
lost sight of during the whirling storm of battle in the twilight woods. 
And I, too, looked ; but where was Andy ? 



CHAPTER XXTV. 

KILLED, WOUNDED, OK MISSING? 

Andy was nowhere to be found. 

All along the line of battle- worn men, now gathered in irregular 
groups behind the breastworks, and safe from the enemy, I searched 
for him — and searched in vain. Not a soul had tidings of him. At 
last, however, a soldier with his blouse sleeve ripped up, and a red- 
stained bandage around his arm, told me that, about daylight, when 
the enemy came ^sweeping down on us, he and Andy were behind 
neighboring trees. He himself received a ball through the arm, and 
was busy trying to stop the flow of blood, when, looking up, he saw 
Andy reel, and, he thought, fall. He was not quite sure it was Andy, 
but he thought so. 

Andy killed ! What should I do without Andy? — the best and 
truest friend, the most companionable messmate, that a soldier ever 
could hope to have ! It could not be ! I would look farther for him. 

Out, therefore, I went, over the breastworks to the picket-line, 
where the rifles were popping away at intervals. I searched among 
trees and behind bushes, and called and called, but all in vain. Then 
the retreat was sounded, and we were drawn off the field, and marched 
back to the fortifications which we had left the day before. 

Toward evening, as we reached camp, I obtained permission to 
examine the ambulance trains, in search of my chum. As one train 
after another came in, I filimbed up and looked into each ambulance ; 
but the night had long set in before I found him — or thought I had 
found him. Raising ray lantern high, so as to throw the light full on 

232 



KILLED, WOUNDED, OR MISSING. 233 

the face of the wounded man lying in a stupor on the floor of the 
wagon, I was at first confident it was Andy ; for the figure was short, 
well built, and had raven black hair. 

" Andy ! Andy ! Where are you hurt ? " I cried. 

But no answer came. Rolling him on his back and looking full 
into his face, I found, alas! a stranger — a manly, noble face, too, but 
no life, no signs of life, in it. There were indeed a very low, almost 
imperceptible breathing, and a faint pulse — but the man was evi- 
dently dying. 

About a week afterward, having secured a pass from corps head- 
quarters, I started for City Point, to search the hospitals there for my 
chum. The pass allowed me not only to go through all the guards I 
might meet on my way, but also to ride free to City Point over the 
railroad — " General Grant's railroad," we called it. 

Properly speaking, this was a branch of the road from City Point to 
Petersburg, tapping it about midway between the two places, and from 
that point following our lines closely to the extreme left of our position. 
Never was road more hastily built. So rapidly did the work advance, 
that scarcely had we learned such a road was planned, before one eve- 
ning the whistle of a locomotive was heard down the line, only a short 
distance to our right. No grading was done. The ties were simply 
laid on the top of the ground, the rails were nailed fast, and the rolling- 
stock was put on without waiting for ballast ; and there the railroad 
was — up hill and down dale, and " as crooked as a dog's hind leg." 
At only one point had any cutting been done, and that was where the 
road, after climbing a hill, came within range of the enemy's batteries. 
The first trains which passed up and down afforded a fine mark, and 
were shelled vigorously, the enemy's aim becoming, with daily practice, 
so exact, that nearly every train was hit somewhere. The hill was 
then cut through, and the fire avoided. It was a rough road, and the 
riding was full of fearful jolts; but it saved thousands of mules, and 



234 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

enabled General Grant to hold his position during the M'inter of the 
Petersburg siege. 

I was obliged to make an early start, for the train left General 
Warren's headquarters about four o'clock in the morning. When I 
reached the station, I found on tlie platform a huge pile of boxes and 
barrels, nearly as high as a house, which I was informed was the Fifth 
Corps' share of a grand dinner which the people of New York 
had just sent down to the Army of the Potomac. Before the train 
arrived I had seen enough to cause me to fear that a very small por- 
tion of the contents of those boxes and barrels would ever find its way 
into the haversack of a drummer-boy. For I had not been contem- 
plating the pile, with a wistful eye, very long, before a certain sergeant 
came out of a neighboring tent, with a lantern in his hand, followed by 
two darkies, one of whom carried an axe. 

" Knock open that bar'l, Bill," said the sergeant. 

Bill did so. The sergeant, thrusting in his hand, pulled out a fat 
turkey and a roll of butter. 

" Good ! " said he. " Now let's see what's in that box." 

Smash went Bill's axe into the side of the box. 

" Good again ! " said the sergeant, taking out a chicken, several 
tumblers of jelly, and a great pound cake, which latter made me feel 
quite homesick. " Now, Bill," continued the sergeant, " let's have 
breakfast." 

City Point was a stirring place at that time. It was General 
Grant's headquarters, and the depot of all supplies for the army ; and 
here I found the large hospitals, which I meant to search for Andy, 
although I scarcely hoped to find him. 

Into hospital tents at one end, and out at the other, looking from 
side to side at the long white rows of cots, and inquiring as I went, I 
searched long and almost despairingly, until at last — there he was, 
sitting on his cot, his head neatly bandaged, writing a letter. 



KILLED, WOUNDED, OB MISSIXG. 235 

Coming up quietly behind him, I Laid my hand on his shoulder 
witli, " Andy, old boy, have I found you at last ? I thought you were 
killed ! " 

- Why, Harry ! God bless you ! " 

The story was soon told. "A clip in the head, you see, Harry, out 
there among the trees, when the Johnnies came down on us, yelling 
like demons. All got black before me as I reeled and fell. By and 
by, coming to myself a little, I begged a man of a strange regiment to 
help me off, and so I got down here. It's nothing much, Harry, and 
I'll soon be with you again, — not nearly so bad as that poor fellow 
over there, the man with the black hair. His is a wonderful case. He 
was brought in the same day I was, with a wound in the head 
which the doctors said was fatal. Every day we expected him to die ; 
but there he lies yet, breathing very low, conscious, but unable 
to speak or to move hand or foot. Some of his company came 
yesterday to see him. They had been with him when he fell, had sup- 
posed him mortally wounded, and had taken all his valuables out 
of his pockets, to send home. Among them was an ambrotype of his 
wife and child. Well you just should have seen that poor fellow's face 
when they opened that ambrotype and held it before his eyes I He 
couldn't speak, or reach out his hand to take the picture ; and there he 
lay, convulsed with feeling, while tears rolled down his cheeks." 

On. looking at him, I found it was the very man I had seen in the 
ambulance, and mistaken for Andy. 

Before returning to camp, on the evening train, I strolled along the 
wharf and watched the boats coming and going, lading and unlading 
their cargoes of army supplies. A company of colored soldiers was 
doing guard duty at one point along the wharf. They were evidently 
proud of their uniforms, and big with importance generally. By and 
by two officers came leisurely walking toward the wharf, one of whom 
I at once recognized as General Grant. He was smoking a cigar. As 



236 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DBUMMER BOY. 

the two stood on the edge of the wharf, looking up the river and con- 
versing in low tones, one of the colored guards came up behind them 
and tapped the general on the shoulder. 

" Beg pardon, gen'l," said the guard, giving the military salute, 
" but dere ain't no smoL'in' allowed on dis yere warf." 

'• Are those your orders ? " asked the general, with a quiet smile. 

" Yes, sail ; dem's de orders." 

Promptly taking his cigar from his lips, the general threw it into 
the water. 

On my return to camp, late in the evening, I found that the com- 
rade with whom I was messing during Andy's absence, had already 
"turned in " for the night. Leaning upon his elbow on his bunk, as I 
was stirring up the fire, in order to make a cup of coffee, he said, — 

" There is your share of the dinner the New York people sent down 
to the Army of the Potomac." 

" Where ? " inquired I, looking around everywhere, in all the cor- 
ners of the tent. " I don't see it." 

" Why, there on your knapsack, in the corner." 

On looking toward the spot indicated, I found one potato, half an 
onion, and the gristly end of a chicken wing ! 

"You see," continued my messmate, "the New York people meant 
well, but they have no idea how big a thing this Army of the Potomac 
is, and they did not stop to consider how many toll-gates their dinner 
would have to pass in order to reach us. By the time corps, division, 
brigade, regimental, and company headquarters had successively 
inspected and taken toll out of the boxes and barrels, there was 
precious little left for the high private in the rear rank." 



CHAPTER XXV. 

A WINTER RAID TO NORTH CAROLINA. 

About the beginning of December, 1864, we were busy building 
cabins for the winter. Everywhere in the woods to our rear were 
heard the sound of axes and the crash of falling trees. Men were 
carrying pine logs on their shoulders, or dragging them along the 
ground with ropes, for the purpose of building our last winter quarters ; 
for of the three years for which we had enlisted but a few months 
remained. The camp was a scene of activity and interest on all sides. 
Here were some men "notching" the logs, to fit them hrmly together 
at the corners ; yonder, one was hewing rude Robinson Crusoe boards, 
for the eaves and gables ; there, a man was digging clay for the chim- 
ney, which his messmate was cat-sticking up to a proper height ; while 
some had already stretched their shelters over rude cabins, and were 
busy cooking their suppers. Just then, as ill-luck would have it in 
those uncertain days, an orderly rode into camp witli some orders 
from lieadquarters, and all building was directed to be stopped at 
once. 

" We have orders to move. Andy," said I, coming into the half- 
finished cabin, where Andy (lately returned from hospital) was 
chinking the cracks in the side of the house. 

" Orders to move I Why, where in the world are we going this 
time of year? I thought we had tramped around enough for one 
campaign, and were going to settle down for the winter." 

" I don't know where we're going ; but they say the Sixth Corps 
will relieve us in the morning, and we are to pull out, anyhow." 



238 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DliUMMEB BOY. 

We were not deceived. At daylight next morning, December 
sixth, we did "pack up aud fall in," and move out from our fortified 
camp, away to the rear, where we lay all day massed in the woods, 
with nothing to do but to speculate as to the direction we were 
to take. 

From daylight of Wednesday, December seventh, we marched, 
through rain and stiff mud, steadily toward the south, crossing the 
Nottaway River on pontoons at eight P. M., and halting at midnight 
for such rest as we could find on the cold, damp soil of a cornfield. 
Next day on again we went, straight toward the south, through Sussex 
Court House at ten A. m., halting at dusk near the Weldon and 
Petersburg Railway, about five miles from the North Carolina line. 

Though we did not then know wha,t all this meant, we soon 
learned that it was simply a winter raid on the enemy's communi- 
cations, the intention being to destroy the Weldon road, and so 
render it useless to him. True, we had already cut that same road 
near Petersburg, but the enemy still brought his supplies on it from 
the south, near to the point where our lines were thrown across, and 
by means of wagons carried these supplies around our left, and safely 
into Petersburg. 

Never was railway more completely destroyed. The morning after 
we had reached the scene of operations, in the drizzling rain and 
falling sleet, the whole command was set to work. As far as the eye 
could see down the road were men in blue, divested of weapons and 
accoutrements, prying and wrenching and tearing away at iron rails 
and wooden ties. It was a well-built road, and hard to tear up. The 
rails were what are known as " T " rails, and each being securely fast- 
ened to its neighbor, at either end, by a stout bar of iron or steel, 
Avhich had been forced into the groove of the T, the track was 
virtually two long, unbroken rails throughout its whole length. 

" No use tryin' to tear up them rails from the ties, major," said an 



A WINTER RAID IN NORTH CAROLINA. 



^39 



old railroader, with a touch of his cap. " The plagued things are all 
spliced together at the j"ints, and the only way to get them off is to 
pry up the whole thing, rails, ties, and all, and then split the ties off 
from the rails when you've got her upside down." 

So, with fence rails for levers, the men fell to work, prying and 
heave-I-ho-ing, until one side of the road, ties, track, and all, pulled 



r- 



-^^^ 


^.^^^ 


4 


^"^'^'y 




/ 




WRECKING THE RArLWAY. 



and wrenched by thousands of strong arms, began to loosen and move, 
and was raised gradually higher and higher. Forced at last to 
a perpendicular, it was pushed over, and laid upside down, with 
a mighty cheer from the long line of wreckers ! 

Once the thing was started it was easy enough to roll miles and 
miles of it over without a break. And so brigade after brigade rolled it 
along ; tearing and splitting off the ties, and wrenching away the rails. 



240 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

It was not enough, however, merely to destroy the track. The 
rails must be made forever useless as rails. Accordingly, the ties were 
piled in heaps, or built up as children build corn-cob houses, and then 
the heaps were fired. The rails were laid across the top of the burning 
pile, where they soon became red hot in the middle, and bent them- 
selves double by the weight of their ends, which hung out beyond the 
reach of the fire. In some cases, however, a grim and humorous con- 
ceit led to a more artistic use of the heated rails, for many of them 
were taken and carried to some tree hard by, and twisted two or three 
times around the trunk, while not a few of the men hit on the happy 
device of bending the rails, some into the shape of a U, and others 
into the shape of an S, and setting them up by pairs against the fences 
along the line, in order that, in this oft-repeated iron U S, it might be 
seen that Uncle Sam had been looking around in those parts. 

When darkness came, the scene presented by that long line of 
burning ties was wild and weird. Rain and sleet had been falling all 
day, and there was frost as well, and we lay down at night with stiff 
limbs, aching bones, and chattering teeth. Everj^thing was covered 
with a coating of ice ; so that Andy and I crept under a wagon for 
shelter and a dry spot to lie down in. But the horses, tied to the 
wheels, gave us little sleep. Scarcely would we fall into a doze, when 
one of the. horses would poke his nose between the wheels, or through 
the spokes, and whinny pitifully in our ears. And no wonder, either, 
we thought, when crawling out at daybreak, we found the poor crea- 
tures covered with a coating of ice, and their tails turned to great 
icicles. The trees looked very beautiful in their magnificent frost- 
work ; but we were too cold and wet to admire anything, as our drums 
hoarsely beat the " assembly," and we set out for a two days' wet and 
weary march back to camp in front of Petersburg. 

Both on the way down and on the retreat, we passed many fine 
farms or plantations. It was a new country to us, and no other 



A WINTER RAID IX NORTH CAROLINA. 241 

Northern troops had passed through it. One consequence of this was 
that we were everywhere looked upon with wonder by the white 
inhabitants, and by the colored population as deliverers sent for their 
express beneiit. 

All ak)ng the line of march, both down and back, the overjoyed 
darkies flocked to us by hundreds, old and young, sick and well, men, 
women, and children. Whenever we came to a road or lane leading to 
a plantation, a crowd of darkies would be seen hurrying pell-mell 
down the lane toward us. And then they would take their places in 
the colored column that already tramped along the road in awe and 
wonderment beside "de sodjers." There were stout young darkies 
with bundles slung over their backs, old men hobbling along with 
canes, women in best bib and tucker with immense bundles on their 
heads, mothers with babes in their arms, and a barefooted brood trot- 
ting along at their heels ; and now and then one would call out anx- 
iously to some venturesome boy, — 

" Now, you Sam ! Whar you goin' dar ? You done gone git run 
ober by de sodjers yit, you will." 

" Auntie, you've got a good many little folks to look after, haven't 
you ? " some kindly soldier would say to one of the mothers. 

" Ya-as, Cunnel, right smart o' chilluns I'se got here ; but I'se 
a-gwine up Norf, an can't leabe enny on 'em behind, sah." 

Fully persuaded that the year of jubilee had come at last, the poor 
things joined us, from every plantation along the road, many of them 
mayhap leaving good masters for bad, and comfortable homes for no 
homes at all. Occasionally, however, we met some who would not 
leave. I remember one old, gray -headed, stoop-shouldered uncle who 
stood leaning over a gate, looking wide eyed at the blue coats and the 
great exodus of his people. 

"Come along, uncle," shouted one of the men. "Come along, — 
the year of jubilee is come ! " 



242 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

"No, sab. Dis yere dale's too ole. Reckon I better stay wid ole 
Mars'r." 

When we halted at nightfall in a eotton-field, around us was 
gathered a great throng of colored people, houseless, homeless, well- 
nigh dead with fatigue, and with nothing to eat. Near where we 
pitched our tent, for instance, was a poor negro woman with six little 
children, of whom the oldest was apparently not more than eight or 
nine years of age. The whole forlorn family crouched shivernig to- 
gether in the rain and sleet. Andy and I thought, as we were driving 
in our tent-pins, — 

" That's pretty hard now, isn't it ? Couldn't we somehow get a 
shelter and something to eat for the poor souls? " 

It was not long before we had set up a rude but serviceable shelter, 
and thrown in a blanket and built a fire in front of them, and set 
Dinah to cooking coffee and frying bacon for her famishing brood. 

Never shall I forget how comical those little darkies looked as they 
sat cross-legged about the fire, watching the frying-pan and coffee-pot 
with great eager eyes ! 

Dinah, as she cooked, and poked the fire betimes, told Andy and 
me how she had deserted the old home at the plantation, — a hor.ie 
which no doubt she afterward wished she had never left. 

"When we heerd dat de Yankees was a-comin'," said she, "de 
folks all git ready fer to leabe. Ole Mars' John, he ride out de road 
dis way, an' young Mars' Harry, he ride out de road dat way, fer to 
watch if dey was a-comin ; and den ebbery now an' den one or udder 
on 'em 'd come a-ridin' up to de house an' say, ' Did ye see anyt'ing on 
'em yit ? Did ye hear whar dey is now ? ' An' den one mawning, 
down come young Mars' Harry a-ridin' his hoss at a gallop, — ' Git out 
o' dis ! Git out o' dis ! De Yankees is a-comin' ! De Yankees is 
a-comin' ! ' and den all de folks done gone cl'ar out an' leabe us all 'lone, 
an' so when we see de sodjers comin' we done cl'ar out too, — ki-yi I " 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

"JOHNNY COMES MARCHING HOME." 

We had just come out of what is known as the " Second Hatcher's 
Run " fight, somewhere about the middle of February, 1865. The 
company, which was now reduced to a mere handful of men, was 
standing about a smoking fire in the woods, discussing the engagement 
and relating adventures, when some one came in from brigade head- 
quarters, shouting the following message — " Say, boys, good news ! 
They told me over at headquarters that we are to be sent North to 
relieve the ' regulars ' somewhere." 

Ha! ha! ha I That was an old story, — too old to be good, and 
too good to be true. For a year and more we had been hearing that 
same good news, — " Going to Baltimore," " Going to Washington," 
and so forth, and we always ended with going into battle instead, or 
off on some long raid. 

So we didn't much heed the tidings; we were too old birds to be 
caught with chaff. 

But, in spite of our incredulity, the next morning we were 
marched down to General Grant's branch of the Petersburg Railway, 
loaded on box cars, and carried to City Point, where we at once 
embarked on two huge steamers, which we found awaiting us. 

For two days and nights we were cooped up in those miserable 
boats. We had no fire, and we suffered from the cold. We had no 
water for thirty-six hours, and, of course, no coffee ; and what is life 
to a soldier without coffee ? All were sea-sick, too, for the weather 
was rough. And so, what with hunger and thirst, cold, and sea-sick- 
ness, we landed one evening at Baltimore more dead than alive. 

243 



244 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRU2IMEB BOY. 

No sooner were we well down the gang-plank than the crowd of. 
apple and pie women that stood on the wharf made quick sales and 
laro-e profits. Then we marched away to a "soldiers' retreat" and 
were fed. Fed ! We never tasted so grand a supper as that before or 
siiice — " salt horse," dry bread, and coffee ! Tlie darkies that carried 
around the great cans of the latter were kept pretty busy for a while, 
I can tell you ; and they must have thought, — 

" Deni sodjers, dar, must be done gone starved, dat's sartin. 
Nebber seed sech hungry men in all my bawn days, — nebber ! " 

After supper we were lodged in a great upper room of a large 
building, having bunks ranged around the four sides of it, and in the 
middle an open space, which was soon turned to account ; for one of 
the boys strung up his fiddle, which he had carried on his knapsack 
for full two years, on every march and through every battle we had 
been in, and with the help of this we proceeded to celebrate our late 
" change of front " with music and dancing until the small hours of 
the morning. 

Down through the streets of Baltimore we march the next day, 
with our blackened and tattered flags a-flying, mustering only one 
hundred and eighty men out of the one thousand who marched 
through those same streets nearly three years before. We find a train 
of cars awaiting us, which we gladly enter, making no complaint that 
we are stowed away in box or cattle cars, instead of passenger coaches, 
for we understand that Uncle Sam cannot afford any luxuries for his 
boys, and we have been used to roughing it. Nor do we complain, 
either, that we have no fire, although we have just come out of a warm 
climate, and the snow is a foot deep at Baltimore, and is getting 
deeper every hour as we steam away northward. Toward evening we 
pass Harrisburg, giving " three cheers for Andy Curtin," as the State 
Capitol comes in sight. Night draws on, and the boys one by one 
begin to bunk down on the floor, wrapped in their greatcoats and 



''JOHNNY COMES MARCHING HOME." 247 

blankets. But I cannot lie down or sleep until we have passed a 
certain way station, from winch it is but two miles across the hills to 
my home. I stand at the door of the car, shivering and chilled to the 
bone, patiently waiting and watching as village after village rushes by 
in the bright moonlight, until at long last we reach the well-known 
little station at the hour of midnight. And then, as I look across the 
snowclad moonlit hills, toward the old red farmhouse where father 
and mother and sisters are all sleeping soundly, with never a thought 
of my being so near, I fall to thinking, and wondering, and wishing 
with a bounding heart, as the train dashes on between the mountain 
and the river, and bears me again farther and farther away from home. 
Then rolling myself up in my blanket, and drawing the cape of my 
overcoat about my head, I lie down on the car floor beside Andy, and 
am soon sound asleep. 

The following evening we landed at Elmira, New York, where we 
were at once put on garrison duty, Why we had been taken out of 
the field and sent to a distant Northern city, we never could discover, 
and we had seen too much service to think of asking questions which 
the mysterious pigeon-holes of the War Department alone could 
answer. But we always deemed it a pity that we were not left in the 
field until the great civil war came to an end with the surrender of 
Lee at Appomattox, and that we had no part in the final gathering of 
the troops at Washington, where the grand old Army of the Potomac 
passed in review for .the last time. 

But so it was, that after some months of monotonous garrison duty 
at Elmira, the great and good news came at last one day that peace 
had been declared, and that the great war was over! My young 
readers can scarcely imagine Avhat joy instantly burst forth all over 
the land. Bells were rung all day long, bonfires burned, and people 
paraded the streets half the night, and everybody was glad beyond 
possibility of expression. And among the joyful thousands all over 



248 



becollections of a drummer boy. 



the land, the Boys in Blue were probably the gladdest of all ; for was 

not the war over now, and would not " Johnny come marching home ? " 

But before we could go home we must be mustered out, and then 




IIIL WELCOMK HUME. 



we must return to our State capital to be paid off and finally dis- 
banded, and say a last good by to our comrades in arms, the great 
majority of whom we should never, in all probability, see again. And 



''JOHNNY COMES MARCHING HOME:' 249 

a more hearty, rough and ready, affectionate good by there never was 
in all this wide world. In the rooms of one of tlie hotels at the State 
capital we were gathered, waiting for our respective trains. Knap- 
sacks slung, Sharp's rifles at a " right shoulder shift " or a " carry " ; 
songs were sung, hands were shaken, or rather wrung ; loud, hearty 
" God bless yon, old fellows ! " resounded ; and many were the toasts 
and the healths that were drunk before the men parted for good 
and all. 

It was past midnight when the last camp-fire of the 150th broke 
up. " Good by, boys ! Good by I God bless you, old fellow ! " was 
shouted again and again, as by companies, or in little squads, we were 
off for our several trains, some of us bound north, some east, some 
west, — and all bound for home ! 

Of the thirteen men who had gone out from our little village 
(whither my father's family had meanwhile removed), but three had 
lived to return home together. One had already gone home, the day 
before. Some had been discharged because of sickness or wounds, and 
four had been killed. As we rode along over the dusty turnpike from 

L to M , in the rattling old stage coach, that evening in June, 

we could not help thinking how painful it would be for the friends of 
Joe Gutelius and Jimmy Lucas and Joe Ruhl and John Diehl to see 
us return without their brave boys, whom we had left on the field. 

Reaching the village at dusk, we found gathered at the hotel where 
the stage stopped, a great crowd of our schoolfellows and friends, who 
had come to meet us. We almost feared to step down among them, 
lest they should quite tear us to pieces with shaking of hands. The 
stage had scarcely stopped when I heard a well-known voice 
calling, — 

" Harry ! Are you tliere ? " 

" Yes, father ! Here I am ! " 

" God bless you, my boy ! " 



250 RECOLLECTIONS OF A DRUMMER BOY. 

And. pushing his way through the crowd, my father plunges into 
the stage, not able to wait until it has driven around to the house ; 
and if his voice is h^^sky with emotion, as he often repeats, " God bless 
you, my boy ! " and gets his arm around my neck, is it any wonder? 

But my dog, Rollo, can't get into the stage, and so he runs 
barking after it, and is the first to greet me at the gate, and jumps up 
at me, with his great paws on my shoulders. Does he know me ? I 
rather think he does ! 

Then mother and sisters come around, and they must needs call 
for a lamp and hold it close to my face, and look me all over, from 
head to foot, while father is saying to himself, again and again, " God 
bless you, my boy ! " 

Although I knew that my name was never forgotten in the eve- 
ning prayer all the while I was away, yet not once, perhaps, in all 
that time, was father's voice so choked in utterance as when now, his 
heart overflowing, he came to give thanks for my safe return. And 
when I lay down that night in a clean white bed, for the first time in 
three long years, I thanked God for peace and home. 

And — Andy ? Why — the Lord bless him and his ! — he's a 
soldier still. For, having laid aside the blue, he put on the black, 
being a sober, steady-going Presbyterian parson now, somewhere 
up in York State. I haven't seen him for years, but when we 
do meet, once in a great while, there is such a wringing of hands as 
makes us both wince until the tears start, and we sit up talking over 
old times so far into the night, that the good folk of the house wonder 
whether we shall ever get to — 

THE END. 




4-1 ^:'' %k 




UHLE 




HEIPERS, 



By MARGARET VANDEGRIFT. 

Author of "The Dead Doll," etc. 

Uniform with "Davy and the Goblin," "The Peterkin Papers," etc. 

$1.50. 1 Vol. Square 4to. Illustrated. $1.50. 

Mrs Austin, tlie author and critic, pronounces tliis " A sweet and lovely story of family life and the 
amusements and interests of John and Tiny Leslie, the hero and heroine. It is exactly the book parents 
would like to give either girls or boys as a Christmas present. The moral influence is admirable, and the 
language pure and elegant. It is well adapted to children of ten or twelve years old; but, withal, very 
interesting to other readers." 

It is a remarkably interesting account of a growing boy and girl, with their tempta- 
tions and victories or defeats, and the patient wisdom of their motlier, at once consoler, 
adviser and inspiring leader. Tlie book is not so didactic as to recall many solemn failures 
of past days, in the line of "improving literature for the young," wbich have been so 
overweighted with priggishness as to bore their readers and hearers out of all patience or 
interestr " Little Helpers," on the other hand, is full of snap and go, with immensely 
droll stories, and bits of homely pathos and tenderness. The movement is rapid, and 
adventure succeeds adventure so trippingly that eveiy reader, old or young, cannot choose 

but follow the narrative. • 

Sent, postimia, on receipt of price hy the lUihlislierrt, 

a?icic:tTo:E^ &c co., sostoist. 




JUAN AND J U ANITA. 



By FRANCES COURTENAY BAYLOR. 



Author of "On Both Sides," etc. 



1 vol. Square 4to. "With many illustrations 



$1.50. 



Miss Baylor's charming and " ower true " tale has formed {though only given in part) the chief attrac- 
tion of the " St. Nicholas " for a year, and in its present and complete form will be heartily welcomed, 
most of all by those who have already learned to love its little hero and heroine, and will eagerly look for 
the full story of their adventures. 

The locale of these events, amid the romantic scenery of Northern Mexico and "Western Texas, is 
brilliantly and accurately described, with the ways and habits of the Texans, Mexicans, and Indians. With 
these are the records of the young hero and heroine, in and beyond the Canon of Roses, and their numerous 
Btrange and diverting adventures, making a volume of rare and permanent interest for young or old. 




Ifph^ and Legend? of tge Did plantation. 

By JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS, 

Author of "Uncle Remus: his Songs and Sayings," "Mingo," etc. 

1 Vol. 12mo. Illustrated. $1.50 ; in paper covers, 50 cents. 

"Brer Rabbit" becomes the hero of a new set of adventures, more excitincr 
than his others, and Church and Beard have illustrated them with admirable skill 
and quaintness. 

The Leipsic Jfagazin die ZUerature says ; " Uncle Remus ia the title to a work which may be already 
■Known to ethnologists, but which is worthy of wider attention, since it affords entertainment to young and 
old by its fresh, sparkling humor. Numerous journals have for some time contained favorable notices of 
the work, the merit of which claims still further indorsement here. Uncle Remus is the type of a planta- 
tion negro as he still exists, notwithstanding political changes in the South. He has lost nothing of his 
naivete, or his happy obliviousness of right and wrong, of mine and thine, still as nebulous as ever to his 
imagination. He is and must remain the creature of opportunit}', and he is witty and cunning enough to 
take advantage of occasion, with natural slyness, judging for himself." 

" Richly and grotesquely humorous legends and folk-tales." — Good Literature. 

" Charming legends full of weird fancy." — Knickerbocker. 

" An exquisite literary setting for gems of hitherto unwritten legends." — Savannah News. 

" It is not a book; it is an epoch." — The American. 

" A wondrously amusing book." — Cliicago Inter-Ocean. 




-^^^\ 

'i"i; ///T/'^^ 



THREE GOOD GIANTS. 

By FRANCOIS RABELAIS. 

Translated by John Dimitry. With 175 Pictures by Gustave Dore 

and Anton Robida. 

$1.50. Uniform with "Davy and tine Goblin," etc. 

" The present beautiful edition of an amusing book cannot fail to amuse thousands of 
little ones, who perhaps in these days are growing tired of ' Gulliver's Travels,' 'Robinson 
Crusoe,' ' Alice in Wonderland,' and ' The Arabian Nights.' " —The Week. 

"Coleridge classes Rabelais with 'the great creative minds, Shakspeare, Dante, and 
Cervantes.' In ' Three Good Giants,' children, young and old, will find a story which 
will vie in delightful interest with ' Robinson Crusoe.' The adventures of the hearty, 
good-natured old king Grandgousier, his son Gargantua, and his grandson Pantagruel, all 
of them mighty heroes and doers of wonderful deeds, will be read and re-read with ever- 
increasing enjoyment. In paper, printing, and binding, ' Three Good Giants ' is everything 
that a choice holiday book should be." — Wash'mijtoii Transcript. 



Sent, jmstpaid, on receipt of price hy the piililishers, 

TiciKiisroi^ & CO., BOSTOisr. 




THE DEAD DOLL 

And Other Verses. 
By MARGARET VANDEGRIFT. 

Author of "Little Helpers," etc. 

1 Vol. Square Svo. Fully illustrated. Uniform with "Davy 
and the Goblin," etc. $1.50. 

A cliarmiiig collection of wise and witty verses for children, many of which, like "THE 
DEAD DOLL," "THE FATE OF A FACE-MAKER," etc., are very popular, and 
have been copied all over the country ; and are household words in thousands of families, 
where this complete and beautiful edition will be eagerly welcomed. Among the other 
poems are 

THE GALLEY CAT. THE CAT AND THE FIDDLE. 

SLUMBER-LAND. A DREAM OF LITTLE WOMEN. 

AT SUNSET. THE CLOWN'S BABY. 

WINNING A PRINCESS. THE KING'S DAUGHTER. 

These poems are not only very attractive and interesting to children, but they also have 
a great fascination for all who care for children, and for sweetness aiid innocence of life. 

Sent, postpaid, on receij)t of j^'ic, f>y the publishers, 




lAYY m^ THE fOBLIN. 



A jniTBNILE, 



By CHARLES E. CARRYL 

Square 4to. Illustrated $1.50. 

The Believing Voyage, the Sugar-Plum Garden, the Butterscotchmen, the Mov- 
ing Forest, Jack and the Beanstalk's Farm, the Giant Badoi'ful, Sinbad the Sailor's 
House, etc. These fascinating chapters are illustrated with quaint pictures. 

" It appeals to children of any age from six to sixty." — Quebec Chronicle. 

" A most enchanting story." — Traveller. 

" In ' Davy and the Goblin ' we have one of the most fantastic children's stories that we ever remember 
to have read. Mr. Carryl might easily have written what he has written if he had never read Alice in 
Wonderland; he has the same whimsical cast of mind as Lewis Carroll, the same ready invention, if indeed 
not more of it; and an uncommon brightness of manner. There is nowhere the least strain on his inven- 
tion and imagination, which appear to be inexhaustible. ' Davy and the Goblin ' is a remarkable story, 
which in its way is the perfection of what childish fantastic writing should be." Thus speaks Richard 
Henry Stoddard, in the J^. Y. 3Iail and Express. 

" ' Davy and the Goblin ' is one of those examples of juvenile literature that make middle-aged people 
wish they had not been born — until twenty years later. Mr. Charles E. Carryl has given to his young ad- 
mirers a perfectly charming story. Wedded to language suited to the comprehension of young readers is 
found subtle, brightest wit of an order to be enjoyed by children of a larger growth." 




By LUCRETIA P. HALE. 

A NEW EDITION, REVISED AND ENLARGED, UNIFORM WITH " DAVY 

AND THE GOBLIN." 

Square 4to. Illustrated. $1.50. Sent, postpaid, on receipt of price. 



"The Peterkiii Papers" were received by the ])eople with great applause, which increased with each 
number, until the unfortunate Mrs. Peterkin, who put salt in her coffee, and the benignant lady from 
Philadelphia, and the sapient Solomon John, and Agamemnon, and Elizabeth Eliza, and the two little boys 
with rubber-boots became familiar characters in thousands of happy households. In 1880 these irresistibly 
and demurely funny stories were brought out in book form ; and they have since become a classic in all 
libraries of merriment. In response to the continued demand, Ticknor & Co. have prepared a handsome 
new edition, which takes a conspicuous place among the holiday books for children and lovers of children. 
The cover is adorned with vivid representations of Mrs. Peterkin and her coffee, the struggle of the Peter- 
kin family with their summer-resort trunk, and the memorable rubber-boots. Within are over 200 fair large 
pages, with delightfully readable type. Several capital full-page illustrations, by Attwood, have been re- 
drawn for this work ; and there are 200 new pictures by F. Myrick. 

" The very name of this collection of absurdly laughable sketches will raise a smile on the face of the 
most lugubrious reader. Miss Hale's humor is irresistible. Her accounts of the doings and esperiencea 
of the Peterkins remind one of the stories of the inhabitants of ancient Gotham, who tried to drown eels, 
and to catch birds by surrounding their nests." — Boston Transcript. 




AT CLOSE QUARTERS THE FIRST DAY AT GETTYSBURG. 

The Recollections of a Drummer Boy. 

By Rev. HARRY M. KIEFFER, 

Late of the 150th Pennsylvania Volunteers. 

Copiously illustrated with scenes in camp and field. 1 vol. Square 8vo. 
Revised and enlarged, and printed from entirely new plates. $1.50. 

A new and enlarged edition of this admirable book, which is particularly adapted for youths, and 
should be placed in the hands of every lad in the country, to impart a knowledge of the old war days. 

Tlie position of the author, as a clergyman of the Reformed Church, gives the book a certain value 
to all persons interested in true and pure literature, which is also of the greatest power of attraction. 
"The Recollections of a Drummer Boy" has become a very popular book for Sundaj'-school libraries; 
and should be read by all old soldiers and tlieir children. The great demand for the book has compelled 
the publishers to issue this enlarged and beautified new edition. 

" The author describes the war fever and enlistment, the advance to Virginia, the battles of Chancel- 
lorsville, Gettysburg, the Wilderness, Petersburg, and the end, with a simplicity and straightforwardness 
that are full of pathos. The evening camps, the frugal ' hard tack,' the long marches over ' the sacred 
soil,' the Bucktail cantonments under the dark Virginia pines, the whir of the long roll, the silent watch 
of midnight pickets, the songs of the camp, the moans of the hospital, the white tents on Maryland hills, 
the joyous rush of artillery coming into action, the imposing splendors of Presidential reviews — all 
these and a thousand other phases of that exciting era are reproduced here with picturesiiue fidelity; 
and once more its readers are " Tenting on the old Ciimp-ground."—Washi7igton Hurald. 

Sei)f, postpaid, on receipt of j) rice, by the Publishers, 

TZCKIIISroi^, Sc CO-, BosTOisr. 







^°-^^. 



,.* ;;^'-. \/ .•:^c«^::. %.^* .•^\ \/ -'- 








^^-^^^ 






.-■■^. 







^P-^^. 







'^^s^' 






■^ 



0^ .c:^^'^-o o^"y^>X ■ /, 



A9^ 




^0 ^^ ' 






o ^ 









.S^r 
















■iD i 



iO-7", 






°^ ^ 



,*••/• (r> 



o » o - .0 -^ 







0* 
*> - s • • A rrN 












-^, 









V. 






.^" 



.^- 






•S^ 



o I-- 
,0 rr 



> 



>. 



